


It was meant to be

by slowroad



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, POV First Person, Romance, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 20:50:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 26,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowroad/pseuds/slowroad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is a forensic pathologist teaching at Bart's. John is his student who finds himself very interested in Dr Holmes. Sherlock is interested too, but John is his student...a relationship between them is hardly appropriate. And yet it feels right. But it is against his principles, not to mention the rules. So they go their separate ways only to meet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> John Watson is older than Sherlock Holmes in canon. But this story is set in an alternate universe in which John is nine years younger than Sherlock. This entire narrative is told in the words and voice of John Watson.

The first time that I laid eyes on Dr Holmes, I knew I was done for. He walked into the class for the first lecture of the term...strode in like he owned the place and looked around at all of us like he knew that he was by far the smartest person in the room.

I was in my final year of med school then...all of twenty three years old. I’d realised a few years ago that I was occasionally attracted to men, but I definitely preferred women...at least until that man walked into that classroom and seriously tipped the scales with nothing more than his looks.

And then he started talking and I swear to you, my knees turned to water…O my God! That voice, it was doing all sorts of things to me (and not just to me, I might add, we were a class of thirty…a good number of the girls looked like they were having trouble concentrating on the pathology part of the lecture).

I had heard a lot about Dr Holmes. He was a forensic pathologist, the youngest teacher at Bart’s. He was just thirty two at that time, but he was already an acknowledged expert in his field. He had experimented with and developed several new tests and processes that were now being used around the world. He also worked as a consultant with the police.

I had been told that Dr Holmes was brilliant teacher.  And he was...as I realised when I was finally able to focus on what he was actually saying…it took me more than ten minutes to stop staring at him, but I did get there... I’m not entirely without self control.

I’ve had some good teachers in my time, but this man was something else. His absorption in his subject was total. He started lecturing and his eyes lit up and then he walked around making these sweeping gestures as he spoke and he drew us all in…there we were, caught up in his enthusiasm and there was never a question of being distracted or looking away, even.

He was as demanding as he was brilliant and I knew that my massive crush aside, his class would be hard work. I needed to do well, needed the credits if I wanted to get my medical degree. I’ve always been a good student and being a doctor was important to me. I didn’t have to make up my mind to work hard, it simply wasn’t in my nature to do anything less.

It became very clear as I sat through lecture after lecture that my crush was not going to go away as I had dearly hoped it would. If anything, my feelings for him only seemed to intensify. The more I got to know him, the more I admired him. He was a genius, his mind making the kind of leaps that the rest of us could only wonder at. His love for science was obvious and infectious.

He brought so much passion to everything that he did, whether it was teaching or working in the lab or sometimes just talking about his subject. This was even more attractive to me than his looks or his voice. And it made it that much harder to get over him.

Two weeks into the term and I was working harder for his subject than I had ever worked for anything in my life. I wanted to impress him, make him notice me at the very least. Most of our professors made an effort to get to know us. But Dr Holmes stayed aloof. He knew all of our names and histories by the end of the first lecture, but he made it clear that he wasn’t particularly interested in getting to know any of us. He was there to do a job and so were we.

Most of the professors at Bart’s were quite friendly. Any doubts or questions and we could drop by their office and they would happily help out. Dr Holmes was the only professor that we hesitated to go to for help. This, despite the fact that his subject was probably the most difficult. He wasn’t approachable at all. He was always serious and focussed. He never cracked a joke, never laughed...I wondered sometimes if he even knew how to laugh.

He handed out his first assessment of the term with the words, “I am well aware that most of you are singularly lacking in intelligence, but I hope that you have put in some effort into your preparation. Please make sure that you do a good job. I will not tolerate ignorance or stupidity.”

All of us felt ignorant and stupid immediately. But we did what we could. Next class, he gave us back our papers...along with a scathing summary of our dismal performance. I got a B, probably the first time in my life. I felt awful. It was only later that I realised that Molly and I were the only ones who’d got B’s. The rest had done a lot worse. Mike complained loud and long about his D.  

 _He probably thinks I’m stupid_ , I thought, sinking lower in my chair. _He does not think about you at all,_ my brain supplied helpfully. Right. Yes, of course. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? I wanted to. But I couldn’t. It was becoming obvious that my feelings for Dr Holmes were now well beyond a crush…I was falling in love with him. I know that is hard to believe, but there was something about the man which drew me to him from the moment I laid eyes on him.

The same something made it impossible for me to look at or think about anyone else, no matter how much I wanted to. Two more weeks, one more assessment and another B. I wanted to scream. I was working hard, I was trying, but there was no impressing this man. We got another dressing down about our woeful lack of intelligence...it was a tirade that was becoming awfully familiar. I sat there wishing the ground would just open up and swallow me.

Then, “John Watson, Molly Hooper, please see me in my office.” And before either of us could respond, he turned on his heel and left. Molly and I looked at each other wondering what that was about. We went to his office together that afternoon. I waited outside. Molly went in looking nervous and came out in tears.

Poor Molly…she also had a major crush on Dr Holmes and she was totally unable to hide it. And it was not like she was an idiot. She was intelligent and usually sensible, but all of that seemed to go out of the window when she was faced with the man.

She would blush deeply and start stuttering and fiddling with her clothes and her hair. He usually ignored it, but then he’d called her to his office that day to discuss her work and she’d kept fidgeting.  He snapped at her to kindly get herself under control and not leave her emotions leaking all over the place...And more on the same lines.

The truly pathetic thing as she told me later was that despite all that, her crush on him was as bad as ever. Now I knew that I was nowhere as obvious as Molly, but the man was perceptive. I was sure he would see right through me, see all my inappropriate thoughts and feelings. I was nervous, but there was no help for it, so I squared my shoulders and went in.

“John Watson,” he said looking at me appraisingly. “Sit.”

I drew a chair and sat down. “I asked you to come see me because I want to discuss your work which, as I’m sure you know, is not what it should be.”

_My work is not what it should be? I know that, but the rest of the class is doing a lot worse than Molly and me, so why are we getting pulled up?_

The thought must have shown on my face. Either that or he can read minds.

“The rest of them are idiots. You and Miss Hooper are the only ones I have some hopes of. Your friend Stamford should consider a career in teaching. He’ll never be any good in the real world.”

I raised my eyebrows at that.

“I happen to teach because I like it, not because I cannot do anything else.”

I tried not to smile at that. _What is it about this man? Why do I find him charming even when he’s being rude?_

“Watson...” he began.

“Please call me John.” The words were out of mouth before I could stop them. Clearly my brain-to-mouth filter was not functioning at that moment. _Is this what happened to Molly?_

I sat there cringing, waiting for the inventible put down, the sarcastic comment. But it didn’t come. I looked at him and I noticed that the corner of his mouth was turned up in an almost smile.

“Okay. John, you are obviously intelligent but your work is not up to scratch. Is this because you’re lazy or because you’re content to be mediocre?”

I was wondering what to say as he sat there looking at me with his head tilted to one side in a way that I found quite adorable.

“Or is it” he continued, “that you need help and you’re too proud to ask for it?”

“Afraid, sir, not proud.” Again I spoke without thinking. I was sure I had offended him this time.

But to my eternal surprise, he laughed.

“I’m not as scary as I look, John. You have every right to ask me for help. It’s my job. So what exactly are you having trouble with?”  
  
...............................................................


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: MBBS is a five year undergraduate medical course offered by Bart's and the London School of Medicine and Dentistry. I have taken some liberties regarding the course and the subjects of study involved. But it was necessary for the purposes of this story. I hope that I have made it believable.

"What exactly, are you having trouble with?" We'd spent that first month studying toxicology…the study of poisons. Dr Holmes was an expert at identifying little known Asian poisons and he'd made us learn test after test to determine which poison was which, the effects it could have on the body, what a dead person would look like after he had ingested a certain poison, the known antidotes for each poison and so on.

Now we were final year MBBS students. All we had encountered so far was illness, disease, symptoms, methods of diagnosis, medicines and so on. We had studied pathology, of course, but it was clinical pathology, as practiced on a living person. And when it involved dead people, it had to do with disease, not crime.

Forensic pathology is not a subject that is necessary for a doctor to be familiar with. It was an optional subject that was offered only to the final year students. We'd chosen to study it because we thought it might be interesting. It was. But all this material was new and considering all the detail and minutiae involved, very complicated. I had a whole list of questions and confusions.

He listened intently as I told him and he made a few notes. Then he walked up to his bookshelf, pulled out a couple of books and brought them to the table. I had expected that he would give me a brief explanation, a list of books and references and that would be it. He set the books on the table, opened one of them and showed me the answer to the first question on my list and started explaining…he went into great detail, stopping every once in a while to make sure that I was keeping up with him.

I was struck once again by the brilliance of the man, his ability to look at a complex idea or situation and take it apart, bit by bit and make it beautifully simple. It was fascinating to watch. Then he threw a few situations at me, drawn from the cases he had helped the police with and challenged me to figure out the cause and manner of death. He gave me photographs and case files and leaned back in his chair with his fingers steepled under his chin, watching me as I tried to figure it all out.

To my surprise, I found that I was able to correctly solve three out of the five cases that he gave me…I saw him raise his eyebrows in surprise as I explained each of them. He listened and then he asked questions making me justify my conclusions… It was stimulating to pit my wits against his, like that…not that I ever had any hope of winning that duel, but it was good to know that I could keep up.

A couple of hours had gone by and neither of us had noticed. I had no desire to leave…not yet. "I think a cup of tea is in order," he said as he made to get up. 

"It's okay, sir." I said. "I'll make it."

It was a spontaneous gesture on my part…I did a whole lot of talking without thinking that day. He looked surprised and there was that half smile again…I was growing to like it rather a lot. I had a strong desire to just lean over and kiss him, but I had got very good over the past month at squashing all such impulses so I walked over to the side table and proceeded to make tea.

"I think you can drop the 'sir', John. At least in this office."

 _Really? I'd love to call you Sherlock but I don't think I can muster the courage just yet._ I put the kettle on and turned to look at him. He was standing at the window looking out. He was turned away from me. So I could look at him without bothering to hide the fond smile on my face. It was still a mystery to me why I loved him as I did.

The closest I can come to explaining it, is to say that I felt a connection...this strange feeling that I had always known him. Maybe that's why I was able to talk to him so freely that day, despite the fact that we'd never had anything remotely like a conversation before. _Does he feel it too? Is that why he's being friendly? He's usually so aloof..._

I poured out the tea and came back to the table. "Will you explain the other two cases to me?" I said.

"Are you really interested?"

"Of course. I want to know what happened and how you figured it out."

I handed him his tea and sat down. He looked at me curiously for a moment and proceeded to explain. It was amazing...he seemed to have used the tiniest observations and bits of evidence to put together a complete picture of the murderer and the manner of the crime...it was extraordinary and I said so...twice. I knew I was gushing a little bit, but I couldn't stop myself.

I was surprised by his reaction, though. He flushed with pleasure at the praise. It made me wonder how often he got told things like that. Considering his aloofness, arrogance and his habitually brusque manner and judging from his reaction, probably not that often, if at all. I found myself wondering for the first time if he had any friends.

We continued talking, but the conversation had taken a bit of a personal direction now. All about me, of course and it was Dr Holmes who was doing all the talking… telling me about my life, rather than asking. He told me that my father was dead and that he had been an alcoholic; that I had a brother, but I wasn't close to him, or to my mother for that matter. He told me that I was working to pay my way through medical school. That I was planning to enlist after I got my degree, that I was lonely but I didn't have girl friend...wasn't even looking for one.

"Now why is that I wonder?" he said.

_Because of you. Because I happen to be so crazy about you that I haven't looked at anyone else ever since I saw you. Because I'm in love with you. I know I can't have you, but that doesn't seem to make any difference to how I feel._

I sat there thinking all that and hoping that he wouldn't see any of it on my face. "There's just no time. Med school is hard and I also have a job."

"You surprise me, John." He said.

I raised my eyebrows in question. "I've just deduced some very personal details about you and you're not upset?"

"Why should I be upset? I would have told you all this if you had asked...It does make me feel a bit like a case that you're trying to solve, but that's just you I guess...Do you do this with everyone?"

He smiled in response. "Sometimes."

"And they don't take it well..."

"Never. So how did I do?"

"I have a sister...not a brother."

"There's always something! I saw the engraving on your phone...Harry Watson and I assumed...stupid of me."

"Harry is short for Harriet...but there's no way you could have known that. So brother is a reasonable assumption I think."

He stared at me intently for a while. It felt like there was more about me that he wanted to know, but couldn't quite figure out. _Good, It'll keep him interested,_ I thought, feeling smug and I sat there looking back at him.

"Can I ask you something?" I said.

"Sure."

"Why is it that you're never there for any of our practicals?"

"Why? They're happening aren't they?" 

"Yes. But they're boring. Dr Stevens is...well, he's not you. He doesn't really know much about the subject and we have no idea what we're doing either so...we're not learning anything. There's a lot of theory that is not translating into anything real. Maybe, that's why we're all struggling so much."

"I've been busy...I do a lot of other things besides teaching you know."

"Is it that or is it that you tend to get really impatient with students in the lab, with our general stupidity as you call it...more so than in the classroom, I mean." I was being rather bold in saying all that. But after having spent nearly three hours talking to him, I felt comfortable enough to bring it up. It had been troubling me for a while...Besides, he was the one who'd said that helping us was his job.

He didn't say anything for a couple of minutes. I was afraid I'd been impertinent. He'd allowed me some liberties over the course of that afternoon, but maybe I'd pushed it too far. Then to my relief, he smiled.

"I think I've underestimated you, John." he said softly. "I know it took some courage to say that to me...it seems you have more of a backbone than I thought...You're right, actually. I have lost my temper rather dramatically in the lab a few times in the past. I find it tedious to supervise a bunch of students who seem to take forever to figure out the simplest instructions..."

We sat in silence for a few minutes and then I got up to leave. "You no longer have an excuse for that B, John." he said.

I nodded. "Thank you. This…was very generous of you."

"I told you, it's my job."

"I'm sure you know this but…you're a brilliant teacher. This was the most interesting lesson I've had in a really long time…"

I left his office that afternoon more in love with him than ever...it was a wonderful feeling and I indulged myself for a while. But I knew very well that there was no hope that my feelings would ever be reciprocated. And yet, I was not making any effort to get over him...


	3. Chapter 3

Dr Holmes came to the lab for our practicals twice that week. I was surprised. I hadn’t expected him to take my words seriously. I found myself thinking again and again of that day in his office. I’d had such a good time. I wanted to go meet him again, but I had to have a reason. I couldn’t just walk in there and say, “I wanted to see you.” However much that may be true.

A week went by and then two. It was the day before our next assessment. Maybe I could go in and say I had some doubts and I needed help…Before I could think it through, I found myself standing outside his office. I wanted to go in and spend a few hours just talking to him, I wanted to sit across that table from him, have those gorgeous eyes look at me while we talked of everything and nothing…

I didn’t know how he would react though. The last time around, I’d come here because he’d asked me to…I had no excuse to offer, no pretext other than ‘I need some help’ which sounded rather flimsy to be honest. But I found that I couldn’t walk away. So I just stood there. It was a good thing his office was at the end of a deserted corridor. I would have drawn a lot of attention to myself otherwise.

I don’t know how long I would have stood there agonising if I hadn’t heard the violin just then…I was extremely surprised. Dr Holmes plays the violin? Is there no end to the man’s gifts? I closed my eyes for a moment and listened…it was beautiful. My brain very helpfully conjured up an image of him holding the violin, tucked under his chin, cradled in those long, slender arms, his sensuous fingers moving delicately up and down…I don’t have a particularly vivid imagination, but when it comes to him, my brain seems to pull out all the stops.

That image was breathtaking…I didn’t bother with the thinking and wondering any more. I had to see him. I raised my hand and knocked. The music stopped. _No, no no…don’t stop. I want to hear you play._

“Come in.” he said.

I walked in and closed the door. He was standing at the window, still holding the violin. He looked at me for a couple of seconds then he turned away and started playing again. I pulled up a chair and sat down. I had no idea what he was playing, but it was enchanting. He looked every bit as sensuous as I’d imagined. That violin looked as if it was a part of him and he was moving in time with the music as he played. I felt like I’d forgotten how to breathe.

Then he turned around and looked right into my eyes and I looked back at him forgetting everything. We stayed like that for what seemed like a very long time. He finished that piece and put away the violin while I told him once again how fantastic and brilliant he was. _I have to stop gushing. I sound like a bloody puppy_. He didn’t seem to mind though. He just smiled that little smile of his. It was driving me insane. I was afraid I would crack one day and just kiss him when he smiled at me like that.

“Tea?” he said.

“That’s my job.” I said and I went to get the kettle. I filled it and turned it on feeling nervous. I was hoping he wouldn’t ask me what I was there for. I turned to look at him. He was in his chair and he was looking at me, staring actually.

“Why are you here, John?”

So much for hoping…I knew he would see through any excuse I could make up. So I didn’t say anything.

“I rather enjoyed our conversation the other day” He said. “You’re one of the very few people around here that I can actually tolerate.”

I was stunned. He’d practically just told me that he enjoyed my company. I found myself fighting to keep a stupidly happy grin off my face. “I enjoyed it too. That’s why I’m here actually. I thought maybe we could talk some more.” _There, I’ve said it. I’ve put it out there._

I walked over to the table and handed him his tea. He took it and continued to look at me intently. I was starting to feel like an insect under a microscope. Then he smiled that devastating smile of his and said, “Well maybe next time you’ll waste less time standing outside my door.”

I flushed at that and he chuckled at my embarrassment. Of course he’d known. He always knew everything...Soon we were deep in conversation. I wanted to know everything I could about him. So I asked him about the violin and then we got talking about his work with the police, a topic that I was sure that I would never tire of. I was surprised again at how easy it was to talk to him. I was beginning to see a different side of the man. He could be witty and charming when he tried and he was trying…for me. I was insanely pleased at the thought.

Soon it became a habit, a part of my routine to drop in at his office a couple of times a week. He always seemed happy to see to me. We only ever met in his office, though. I’d go in and then I’d make tea and we’d talk and then he’d play his violin for me and…it was always the same and yet it was always different.

I was happier than I’d ever been. We were friends. We spent time together because we enjoyed each other’s company. Company and conversation…that was all there was and there would never be anything else. I knew that. And it hurt. It was hard to spend so much time with him and have to hide what I really felt for him. But I wanted him in my life. So I was willing to take what I could get.

I never told any of my friends about this. I knew what it would look like. No one would believe that we were just friends…that there was nothing sordid about any of it. So I kept it to myself.

Before I knew it, the term was over. Everyone was going home for Christmas. I was in his office the day before the holidays were to begin.

“So when do you leave, John?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“No family holiday for Christmas?”

“That is only good for families that get along. Mum wants us to be together but that is a terrible idea. Mum and Harry fight all the time and it gets really depressing. I might go see her one of these days but I’d really rather be alone for Christmas.”

“And being alone is not depressing?”

“It’s less depressing. What about you?”

“Oh I spend all year ignoring my mother and my brother. But come Christmas and I get these tedious arguments about filial affection and duty thrown at me. So I drag myself to Sussex to play a round of happy families. I’m only going to be there on Christmas eve though. So you could come over to my flat for Christmas if you like. I assume the dorm will be a painfully lonely place.”

He actually invited me to his apartment. Never thought I’d see the day. “Thanks. That would be lovely.”

“I’ll text you the address. Maybe we could go out for lunch.”

 _He’s just asked you on a date_ , my brain informed me. _No he hasn’t. It is just going to be a couple of friends having lunch_. _That’s it. Nothing more._ But I couldn’t ignore the butterflies in my stomach.


	4. Chapter 4

It was two days before Christmas and I still had no idea what to get Sherlock for a gift…I'd got to know him rather well over the last two months, but that was no help when it came to figuring out what he would like. I wanted it to be special, something that maybe only I could have got him, something that he would really value…but what? I couldn't afford anything expensive. Money was always tight…

I was still tying myself up in knots over this when he called. I was alone in the dorm. The silence was deafening. So the call was more than usually welcome. We talked for a couple of hours and when I hung up, I had a lump in my throat. All we ever did was talk and yet, even that little made me feel so happy, so alive.

I needed him in my life…there was no doubt about that. And he seemed to like me well enough to seek out my company. That was not nearly enough, though. Sometimes it really hurt to think that I could never make him feel anything more…anything like the raw need and the crazy desire that I felt for him.

In the interests of self preservation if nothing else, I should have been trying to get over him. But I wasn't. I realised that I wasn't even flirting anymore. I simply wasn't interested. It felt like Sherlock had walked into my life and filled it up until there was no one else to see or to think about.

We'd been friends for two months now, but I still knew nothing about his personal life. I hadn't known that he had a brother until he mentioned him the other day. I knew that he wasn't in a relationship, I guessed that he'd been alone for a while now, it seemed like he wasn't interested in being with anyone…but was he at all interested in men? I had absolutely no idea. Not that it would have helped my case any, because he still wouldn't be interested in me.

Christmas Eve came and went in silence. I'd spent the day feeling lonelier than ever. The only thing that kept me from feeling totally depressed was the thought that I was going to see Sherlock the next day. It's not a date, I kept telling myself. But I was excited nonetheless and I spent an inordinate amount of time on my clothes and my appearance that day. I felt a bit foolish, though. If he hadn't felt anything for me so far, and he hadn't, he wasn't about to start now…no matter what I did.

I had told him to expect me at eleven. I was there ten minutes early. I stood outside the door of 221B Baker Street, with his gift under my arm feeling very nervous. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. I was about to knock when he opened the door.

"How long were you going to just stand there?" he said with a laugh.

There was nothing I could say without giving myself away. So I just smiled sheepishly and followed him into the apartment. It was exactly as I had expected it to be...elegant and tasteful, messy and chaotic. Every inch the image of the man who lived there.

"Well?" he said.

"It's a reflection of you. It's lovely." I said and realised a little too late, the implication of that statement. _Is there any chance that he didn't notice?_

He just looked at me for a second and then he smiled, pointed to the package that I was holding and said, "What's that?"

"It's your gift." I said smiling back, relieved at that quick change of subject. _He noticed. But he didn't comment. Why?_

"You got me a gift?"

"It's Christmas. Of course I got you a gift. Here." I said as I handed it to him. He took it and held it, he looked at it and shook it and...

"You don't have to figure out what it is. It's not a puzzle. It's a gift. You're supposed to open it." I said with a chuckle.

"It's a framed painting or a photograph..."

"Close, very close. But no matter how much you try, you won't know exactly what it is until you open it."

"Fine. Fine." He said as he ripped it open. I stood there holding my breath. It was a very personal gift. It would be truly awful if he didn't like it. He saw what it was and he looked stunned. He stood very still and I could feel the beginnings of a panic attack in the back of my mind.

Then he looked up and "You drew this...You drew a picture of... me."

I nodded. "It's beautiful, John. It's exquisite. Where did you learn to draw like this?"

"I didn't...learn, I mean." I stuttered, relieved that he liked it. "It's just something I've always done."

He sat down and continued to look at it. "Why have you drawn me playing the violin?"

"Because that's my favourite image of you." _Right. Carry on like this and he will know exactly how you feel about him...and very soon. In fact that drawing might just tell him everything._

He looked at me, scrutinising, searching. I looked back at him, a pleasant smile firmly on my face. "Thank you. It's a very special gift...I...I got you something too." He added hesitantly. "It is nowhere near as good as this, though."

"I don't care. Just give it to me already." He looked like such a kid, shy and unsure of himself. It was endearing, really.

He walked into his bedroom and emerged with a package. I tore it open immediately. I had no clue what it might be... It was a shirt...a deep red coloured, obviously expensive silk shirt. It was gorgeous and much more expensive than anything I'd ever had. He bought me a shirt. _That's a very personal gift as well. It's not really the sort of thing that you buy for a friend. Does that mean...?_

I honestly did not know what to say. I looked up and we just stood there looking at each other and suddenly there was this tension in the room...a load of unsaid words and suppressed feelings. "Sherlock...it's gorgeous. Thank you...it's...I love it...I didn't expect..."

He stood there looking at me with an intensity that I almost could not bear. It felt like he was trying to get inside my head and actually see my thoughts. He looked into my eyes and then his eyes flicked to my lips...it was a very brief glance. He looked away immediately... _Does that mean what I think it means? Is that actually possible?_

There was a knock on the door. Sherlock looked relieved as he went to open it. It was a sweet old lady who turned out to be Mrs Hudson, the landlady. She stood at the door holding a large chocolate cake. "Happy Christmas, Sherlock!" she said as she walked in and handed him the cake. Then she reached up and kissed him firmly on both his cheeks.

Then she turned to me."You must be John." She said.

I must have looked surprised. "Sherlock told me you were coming." She added. "I'm glad you're here. Sherlock is usually alone for Christmas and I hate that."

She seemed more like his mum than his landlady. I found myself feeling strangely glad that he had someone like this to take care of him. I was starting to realise exactly how alone he was and it was not a happy thought.

"Well, I'd better be going now, dear. My sister's waiting for me." She said. And then, "Have fun boys!" as she walked down the stairs.

I closed the door and turned to find that Sherlock was standing just a couple of feet away, still holding the cake. He turned abruptly and walked into the kitchen. He put away the cake and took out a couple of wine glasses. He got the wine out of the fridge and poured it out. I walked into the kitchen and sat at the table, watching him.

The silence was starting to get uncomfortable. It seemed that neither of us had any idea what to say. Sherlock handed me the glass of wine and sat down. He looked at me and then he looked away. I wondered what would happen if I reached over and kissed him. It might end the tension or it might take it to a whole new level.

"So do you do other kinds of drawing as well, or is it always pencil work?" he said.

"I've done others as well, charcoal, pastel, watercolour...but I prefer pencil on the whole. I find that not adding colour is freeing somehow."

"What made you want to draw me?"

"I draw people all the time. I like doing portraits."

"So this isn't the only one of me that you've done."

I had done about forty drawings of him by then but I wasn't about to admit it. I couldn't deny it either, so I just nodded and that uncomfortable silence settled around us again. By now we each knew what the other was thinking. I found it hard to believe, but all the signs were there. He seemed to want me as much as I wanted him. But neither of us wanted to make the first move, afraid that we'd misinterpreted the signs...

One glass of wine became two and then three...the silence stretched. Sherlock glanced at the clock. It was one 'o' clock. "Time for lunch, I think." he said, standing up, looking relieved to have a good reason to get us out of the flat.

"Where are we going?" I said as I got my coat and followed him out.

"Angelo's. It's just a couple of blocks away."

Angelo's turned out to be cozy and warm, Italian obviously, the perfect place for a Christmas lunch. We were shown to a table by the window. I was looking at the menu when Angelo himself walked over to greet Sherlock.

"Anything for you Sherlock, on the house, free for you and your date." _Date?_ Neither of us argued with that statement.

"I'll get a candle for the table. It's much more romantic." Angelo said as he bustled off. We didn't argue with the candle either...though it made things that much more awkward between us. We made several attempts at conversation...We picked at our food. _Why doesn't he just say something? I can't make a move. He's my teacher._

It struck me then that Sherlock might be in the same predicament. In fact, it was probably harder for him to say or do anything because he was my teacher...he wouldn't want me to agree to anything because I was afraid or worried about possible consequences.

So it was up to me...that was a scary thought. I knew what I wanted to say but the words just wouldn't come. It was frustrating. We finished the meal in silence and left. On the walk back to Baker Street, I gathered up my courage and reached out and took his hand. He stiffened, but he didn't look at me or say anything...then he squeezed my hand and pulled me closer.

My heart was thudding in my chest as we walked up the stairs to his apartment. He opened the door and I followed him in. We just stood there looking at each other for a few long moments...Then he walked up to me, put his hands on my face and...just looked at me. He was asking for permission. I smiled and then I reached up and pressed my lips to his.


	5. Chapter 5

I reached up and pressed my lips to his. It was the softest of kisses, but it sent a shiver down my spine. I stepped back and looked at him. He smiled that small, shy smile of his and this time I was able to capture it with my lips… _that’s one fantasy fulfilled right there._

He put his arms around my waist and pulled me to him. My breath hitched. I seriously could not believe that this was happening. He brushed his lips against mine and gently nibbled on my lower lip. I had one arm on his shoulder and the other at the back of his neck. I ran my fingers through his hair…his curls were softer than they looked. _I see a lot of playing with his hair in my future,_ I thought.

A tiny voice in my head sounded a warning at that. _Do you know what is happening here? Where this is headed? You haven’t even talked about it._ I wondered if I should pull back and ask him a few questions. But he ran his tongue across my lips just then and I pretty much lost my ability to think.

I opened my mouth to him and he reached in with his tongue, tentatively at first…I moaned softly and I could feel him smiling around my mouth. Then the kiss got deeper and more passionate and I could feel myself getting aroused. I don’t know how long we stood there kissing and touching and fumbling with each other’s clothes.

We lost our shirts before we made it to bed. We lay there running our hands and mouths all over each other and before long I was inside him, feeling like my heart and my body would explode. He lay there, naked and beautiful, passion and desire written clearly on his face, wanting me in a way that I had never imagined…and then he came apart in my arms. It was a sight that I vowed never to forget as I followed him into oblivion.

………………………………………

It was a couple of hours before I woke up. I had a hazy memory of going to the bathroom to clean up a bit and then we got into bed again and at some point I must have fallen asleep. I turned to see him lying next to me, an expression of worry and concern on his face.

That little voice in my head sounded a warning again. I reached out and took his hand. “Why are you looking like that?” I said.

“I’m so very sorry, John.” He said.

My heart sank. “Sorry for what?”

“This.” he said, waving his hand vaguely between us. “None of this should have happened.”

“But why?”

“Why? I’m your teacher John. This is wrong, it is inappropriate.”

“It’s wrong?” I said, my voice rising in anger. ”Don’t insult me Sherlock, I’m not a child. I’m a consenting adult here…’this’ as you call it, happened because we both wanted it. I wanted it more than you, if anything."

“That still doesn’t make it right, John.”

“Why? Because there’s a rule against it?”

“Yes. And that rule is there for a reason.”

“It is there to protect students. I know that. But I don’t need to be protected from you, damn it! I want you. Why can’t you understand that?”

He looked pained and troubled. “Sherlock, you did not take advantage of me. Trust me when I tell you that.”

“I do trust you John, but I should never have let any of this happen…It was the damn wine.” He added ruefully.

“Again, why? What is the problem if we both wanted it?”

“You have to understand…It is wrong…because I am your teacher and that is all there is to it." 

I had to struggle to keep my composure. I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest. “So what now?” I said in a low voice.

He winced at the obvious note of pain in my voice. “I’m sorry, John. I don’t want to hurt you. But this is not right…it shouldn’t happen. I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

It was the one thing that I was hoping he would not say. I took a deep breath and tried to collect myself. I thought about how much I loved him, wanted him. How convinced I had been that he could never feel anything like that for me. And here he was telling me that he wanted me too, but that we have to deny ourselves for something as stupid as the fact that he was my teacher…

I thought about my life and everyone in it. I thought about the depressing fact that at that moment, Sherlock was the only person in my life that I loved and I realised that this was how it was going to be for the foreseeable future. I hadn’t been able to get over him when I believed that he didn’t care for me. Did I have any chance of moving on now…when I knew that he had feelings for me?

_Wait a minute, I don’t actually know that. We haven’t talked about anything…Maybe attraction is all it is for him. Maybe he doesn’t actually care about me. Is that why he’s sorry? Well, we’re going to talk now. I am not letting this go without a fight._

We were still in bed. I was sitting in the middle and he was at the edge of the bed looking at the floor with an expression of misery on his face. I found it strangely comforting. If the thought of not seeing me anymore was making him look like that, I had hope…we had hope.

“Sherlock, we need to talk about this. You can’t just make a decision and expect me to be okay with it.”

“What is there to talk about?” he said.

“Plenty, I’d say. Until yesterday we were just friends. I didn’t know you were attracted to me and I’m guessing you didn’t know about me either.”

He nodded. “We’re not even in a relationship Sherlock…how do we break up when we never got together in the first place?”

“We shouldn’t get together at all.”

“Well you keep saying that, but honestly, it doesn’t make any sense to me.” He made as if to say something. I stopped him with a gesture. I really was not interested in either his arguments or his logic. This was my heart we were talking about here, my life.

“I need you to answer some questions for me, Sherlock. And you have to promise me that you will tell the truth, no matter what you think my reaction will be.”

“John, what is the point…”

“Stop right there. I don’t care if you don’t see the point. I need answers to a few questions and I’m not leaving until you tell me what I want to know.”

“I’m sorry." He said again, “I know what this looks like. I had sex with you once and now…”

“That is exactly why we need to talk. And we can't do that with you sitting all the way over there where I cannot even see your face. Come here.” I said and I opened my arms to him. He looked surprised but he came anyway. I moved back until I was sitting with my back to the headboard and pulled Sherlock to me so that he was resting with his head on my chest. I gently stroked his hair.

“I don’t think you’re taking me seriously, John.” He said as he tried to pull away.

“Stay.” I said as I pulled him back.”I am taking you seriously…I’m just saying that you’re not allowed to make a unilateral decision about something that concerns both of us. We’re going to talk, not fight, I’m rather upset right now and this whole thing hurts a little less when I get to hold you. So stay."

“I know that you’re attracted to me. Is that all it is or do you actually care about me?” I said.

“John, I don’t see…”

“Answer the question, Sherlock.”

“I..” he said and then he looked away and “I do…care about you, I mean…rather a lot actually.”

“Good. Because I care about you too…In fact, I love you.”

“You ah…This is bad.” He said.

“It is nothing of the sort. Now do you love me?” He looked as if he was going to start arguing about the need for this conversation, but the look on my face stopped him. He nodded. “Yes.” He said softly.

I felt a lot better. But we were not out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot. I would have to find a way to convince him that it didn’t matter that he was my teacher…it was not going to be easy. I knew how pigheaded he could be.

“So the only problem here is that you are my teacher.”

“Yes…but that is a big problem.”

“Maybe…but we won’t talk about it just now. How long have you known that you love me?”

“Two months…ever since that day I called you into my office…I think I realised it just after you left.”

“You certainly did a good job of hiding it.”

“What else was I supposed to do? You’re my student. It’s not a line that I ever wanted to cross…I thought it was okay for us to be friends because I was sure you weren’t interested in me. I was sure that you were straight. I wouldn’t have let even that happen otherwise.”

“Thank God you didn’t know then…I know this sounds ridiculous, but I think I fell for you pretty much the moment I saw you. I felt a connection almost immediately…I love you, Sherlock. You have to understand, I cannot just let you go. It’ll break me…”

He looked pained and guilty. He buried his head in my neck and said, “I’m so very sorry, John. I shouldn’t have allowed this to happen…”

“Look at me, Sherlock. Stop feeling guilty. There is no need…so you’re convinced that we should not be together because you’re my teacher.”

He nodded. “Okay. What about the fact that in six months time I’ll graduate and you won’t be my teacher anymore? What then?”

“Six months is a long time, John. You can’t know that you will still want me then.”

“Are you kidding me? I love you…with an intensity that scares me sometimes. It is you or nothing with me, Sherlock and I really mean that. So have a care with my heart.”

“John…” he said and his voice broke.

“It’s the same for you isn’t it?” I said. He nodded.

“Then why do you want to push me away? It is just a matter of six months. We’ll be discreet. I know it is a bit of a risk for you. You could lose your job. But we’ll be careful. No one will know.”

“It will not be as easy as you think. We’ll have to sneak around. I hate that. Besides, after six months you’ll enlist and you’ll be gone. What kind of a relationship do you think we’ll able to have then? It’s no use, John. I’ve thought about it from every angle…it won’t work. We don’t have a future. It is better to end it now.”


	6. Chapter 6

“We don’t have a future. It is better to end it now.”

Those words were like a physical blow. I couldn’t remember when I had last hurt like that. I realised that this was a very important moment. What I said and did now would determine the course of my life...Sherlock looked miserable, but resigned. _He’s given up..._

I glanced at the clock. It was past six. I must have slept for a couple of hours...Sherlock had probably not slept at all. He must have sat here the whole time thinking about all of this and making himself miserable.

His thinking was of course, all logic and reason. That’s not how I think...when it comes to my life, I think with my heart, always have. _I‘m not going to stop now. I am not going to give up._

I was still holding him. I ran my fingers through his hair again and again, trying to calm myself, trying to think. There had to be a way to convince him...

I hadn’t said anything for over ten minutes. He looked intently at me, clearly wondering what I was thinking. I smiled at him. He was extremely surprised. It was not at all the reaction he’d expected, given his statement.

“I told you. You don’t get to make this decision on your own. I love you too much to let you go. Couples have issues like this all the time...and they work things out, they look for solutions, they make compromises...”

He raised his eyebrows at my choice of words. “Yes, Sherlock. We are a couple and we’re going to go on being one. We belong together. Just because you don’t see a solution, it doesn’t mean there isn’t one. And before you give me your ‘I’m a genius and I see everything’ speech, let me tell you, that when it comes to relationships, you don’t see or understand much. Now shut up and let me kiss you.”

I bent my head and drew him into a kiss. He was too surprised to protest. We lay there kissing lazily for several minutes...there was no urgency, no desire for anything more...it was like an affirmation of everything I’d just said.

We pulled apart after a bit and Sherlock looked so dazed and confused that I had to struggle not to laugh. He seemed to want to say a lot of things but he was clearly having trouble stringing his thoughts together.

“Tea?” I said, as casually as I could. That threw him some more. “What?” he said.

“I’m hungry. Let’s go into the kitchen and have some tea and some of that wonderful cake that Mrs Hudson made. We can talk over tea. Come on now.” I said as I got up and walked out of the bedroom. He followed me looking utterly bewildered.

He sat at the table watching me make the tea and cut the cake and...he still hadn’t said anything. He was waiting. I handed him the tea and sat down.

“Sherlock, why does the fact that I am your student bother you so much? It can’t just be because there’s a rule against it. You flout rules all the time. And you don’t care. Why is this different? Has something happened before?”

He flinched at that and I knew I had guessed right. “Tell me...please.”

He rubbed his hands over his eyes and took a deep breath. Clearly, it was a painful memory. “It was about three years ago...I‘d only been teaching for a couple of months. There was this student...He came to my office a couple of times for some help and we got talking. I found him interesting and we became friends...”

“That’s all it was for me, but he...wanted more. I refused. He...persisted and then I lost it a bit. I kicked him out of my office with a few choice words...he deserved every one of them, but considering the aftermath, maybe it would’ve helped if I had been gentle with him...”

“The aftermath?”

“He went to the dean and accused me of molesting him...”

 _Dear God, no!_ “And then?”

“And then there was this awful inquiry. They were already prejudiced against me because I break rules all the time and it didn’t help that they knew that I’m gay. So they went at me with everything they had. They made me feel like such a pervert, John. The questions, the insinuations...It was the most humiliating experience of my life. I managed to prove my innocence, of course...but a lot of the senior staff still believe that I was guilty...”

“So if anyone found out about us...”

“That would be all they need to kick me out, yes.”

“Look, it’s a problem only if we’re together while I’m still your student. So we won’t get together now. We’ll go back to being friends. Or not even that. I won’t come here again...We’ll wait. But there is no way we’re breaking up...As for my big decision to enlist, I haven’t done it yet, so I can choose not to.”

“But it’s your dream, John.”

“So are you. I can give it up if it means that I get to have you...”

“You shouldn’t sacrifice your dream for me. What if things don’t work out between us? What if you regret this decision a few years from now? You’ll only end up resenting me and I don’t want that.”

“It’s not a sacrifice, Sherlock. It’s called a compromise and it is impossible to make a relationship work without making a few compromises. And it is not something I am going to do for you...I’m going to do it for us. Besides, it is my dream to be a doctor and I’m going to do that anyway. “

“But if things don’t work out?”

“Why would things not work out? Look at us. We’re good for each other. We’ll be happy. “

“I am not an easy person to love or get along with, even. And you’re still very young...”

“I am. But that does not mean that I’m immature. Stop worrying about me...I know what I’m doing. I know what I want. I want you...trust me, please.”

“Are you sure, John?” He wanted to believe me, but he was still concerned.

“Yes I am. I want you, Sherlock. I need you. I’m willing to walk away for a while...but there is no way I’m giving you up.”

He got up and came around to my side of the table. He took my hands in his and kissed them lightly. Then he drew me into a hug and we stayed like that for a few minutes...He didn’t say anything, but I knew that I’d managed to convince him...I felt the tension slowly drain out of me...


	7. Chapter 7

He got up and came around to my side of the table. He took my hands in his and kissed them lightly. Then he drew me into a hug and we stayed like that for a few minutes…He didn’t say anything, but I knew that I’d managed to convince him…I felt the tension slowly drain out of me… 

 “I love you.” He said softly.

“I love you too.” I mumbled into his chest.

“Would anybody notice if you don’t get back to the dorm tonight?”

“There’s no one there. Why? Are you actually asking me to stay over?” I was surprised.

“Just for tonight…I find that I can’t quite stomach the thought of you going away just now.”

I drew back and looked at him. “But you said…”

He sighed. “I know what I said. I do think we shouldn’t see each other for a while. It’s not worth the trouble. But we’ve both had an emotionally draining, generally exhausting day. I don’t think either of us can deal with being alone right now. Besides, it’s Christmas…no one’s going to know.”

“Does that mean we can actually relax and just enjoy being together for a while?” I asked, feeling a little tentative.

He caught the note of uncertainty in my voice. He sighed again. “I’m sorry, John. I’m sorry I was so stupid. I really messed this up, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay. We got through it...” I found that I still felt unsure about him. I’d had to fight for him that day and...there was a part of me that still worried that he would walk away from me.

“I won’t, John.” He said.

“What?”

“I won’t walk away, I promise. That’s what you’re worrying about, isn’t it?”

I nodded. I had no idea how he knew but I was glad I hadn’t had to ask him.

He put his hand on my face and ran his fingers gently across my cheek and looked right into my eyes. There was gentleness there, a tenderness that I’d never seen before. “I don’t know what I can say to make you believe me, John...”

“I love you and I need you more than I care to admit. I’ve never been in love before...I’ve never cared about anyone as much as I care about you...I want us to be together, a couple like you said...The next few months will be hard, John. Don’t make it harder on yourself by worrying about this...trust me, please.”

I found myself overwhelmed as much by his words as by his obvious sincerity in saying them. I had to look away to hide a couple of tears that were threatening to spill. “Thank you. I...I needed to hear that.” I said.

He reached down and pulled me into a kiss...it was soft and tender...an affirmation of his promise. He drew back after a bit and said, “I’d like to make it up to you...”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I want to treat you to a proper date. But I can see that you have no desire to go out.”

I nodded. “So I’ll order in…I’m guessing Indian?” He said.

I nodded again, though I had no clue how he knew that Indian food was about my favourite thing in the world.

“Then,” he continued, “You can pick a movie of your choice…Star Wars or James Bond or any of the so called classics of popular culture that you’re always surprised that I don’t know anything about and we can watch it together over dinner. And of course everything that comes after. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a proper date. Thank you.” I said. “But a shower first, I think.”

“You go first.” He said. And then, “Just give me a minute.”

He went into his bedroom and came back with a fresh towel, a pair of pyjamas and a t-shirt.

“Your clothes…” I said as I took them.

“You don’t have anything to change into…it’s only practical...Besides, the thought of you wearing my clothes is a major turn on.” He said and smiled...

I flushed at that. He laughed and pulled me up for another kiss…it started out all slow and languid but it got intense rather quickly...He pulled away first. He rested his forehead against mine trying to catch his breath. I held on to him. My heart was thudding in my chest and I honestly did not know when I had last been so happy.

“No, no. We’re going to do this properly…” He said. Then he looked at me…his eyes lingered on my lips and my neck and my arms and my chest and…He shook himself with a laugh. “Do you have any idea how very attractive you are?”

I could only smile in response. “Go. You’ll never get that shower otherwise.” He said as he gently pushed me towards the bathroom.

I had a nice, hot shower and I still had that smile on my face when I got out. I found him lying on the couch, eyes closed, a small smile on his face.

My heart lurched at the sight of him.  _He is so impossibly beautiful. And he’s mine_.  _I don’t know when I will get to see him like this again after tonight_.

I had promised him that I would walk away and stay away, be nothing more than his student for the next six months. I was only just starting to realise how difficult that was going to be.

He opened his eyes and looked me up and down, his smile growing as I flushed under his rather intimate scrutiny. The pyjamas were too long, of course. I’d had to roll them up a bit and the t-shirt was a touch too tight. “Definitely a turn on.” He said.

Then he walked up to me and gave me a quick kiss before going off to shower. I walked around the living room looking through his books. He had a vast collection. Mostly non-fiction, just as I’d expected.  He had lots of music and almost no movies.

Then I flopped on the couch and turned on the telly. Nothing particularly interesting was on. So I went through the list of on demand movies. I still found it hard to believe that Sherlock had never seen a single James Bond movie. He’d never heard of Spock or Darth Vader, had no more than a vague idea about the Lord of the rings or Harry Potter…how was it possible?

 _Time to start educating him, then_. I was trying to decide between Casino Royale and Star Trek when he walked in and pretty much derailed all thought. I’d never seen him in anything casual before. And here he was in his pyjamas, t-shirt clinging to him, hair still wet and mussed from his shower...

He saw me staring at him and he arched an eyebrow in question. “I can’t help it. Just look at you. I don’t think you have any idea what you do to me. Come here.”

He came and knelt in front of me and we kissed…I couldn’t help marvelling at how easy this was, how comfortable we were with each other. It felt like it had the very first time that I saw him. It felt familiar. It felt like I had always known him.  

We were interrupted by the doorbell. Sherlock went down to get our dinner and I turned my attention back to the telly. I decided that I was not in the mood for aliens or spaceships. So Casino Royale it was going to be.

Soon we were settled on the couch with our dinner, watching James Bond. Sherlock was quiet for maybe the first five minutes and then he started commenting on...well, pretty much everything. The obviousness of the plot, the predictable acting, the stupidity of the director…

It was hilarious. I found that I was enjoying his snarky comments more than the movie itself and I vowed to do this with him as often as possible when we finally got together.

We’d finished our dinner and Sherlock shuffled up to me and rested his head on my shoulder. I put my arm around his waist and pulled him close. We stayed like that for the rest of the movie. It felt so domestic and so very natural...

My heart ached at the thought of tomorrow. “It’ll be hard on me too, you know.” He said quietly. I had no idea how he could just read my mind like that. I took his hand in mine and kissed it gently. “We’ll get through it.” I said.

“I’ll text you every day...” He said.

I laughed. “You better...”

We sat in silence for a while. We both knew what we wanted but I guess we weren’t sure if it was the most sensible thing to do, given the circumstances...

 “John...” He said, and I turned to look at him. I saw the question in his eyes, along with a definite uncertainty about my response. _As if I would ever refuse him. Doesn’t he know how much I want him? Idiot._

“Bed?” I said softly. He nodded.

“Please...” I said and I was rewarded with the happiest smile that I’d seen on him yet.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Morning came and it was time to leave. We said our goodbyes as well as we could.

“What are you going to do now?” Sherlock asked.

“I’ll go spend a couple of days with mum. Harry will have left by now, so it should be peaceful.”

“Keep in touch?”

“Of course.”

One last kiss and it was goodbye. I went to the dorm and packed a few clothes. I called mum and told her to expect me for lunch. It had been a year since I’d gone to see her. It was not that we had problems as such, but we were simply not close.

She was not a particularly affectionate person. And I’d spent most of my childhood bouncing around day-care and then alone at home, while mum worked and Harry partied. And most of the time that she was home, she spent arguing with dad.

So you could say that we’d never really had a chance to get to know each other even. It seemed that she wanted to try now. Too little, too late in my opinion. But then she had helped me pay for med school. I was really grateful for that. She’d covered at least half of my expenses while I spent my weeknights and weekends bartending to make up the rest.

She seemed happy to see me. We had lunch and we talked about this and that and it was good in a way. Mostly I guess I was glad to get away from the dorm where the silence would have made me feel my loneliness a little too acutely.

True to his word, Sherlock stayed in touch. I realised quickly that he was rather fond of texting. The first one came barely ten minutes after I’d left Baker Street.

**I miss you. SH**

And then about half an hour later,

**I miss you acutely. I’m bored. SH**

He kept this up all day. It made me smile every single time. It was as if he knew that I was still a little insecure and he was doing what he could to reassure me.

The two days with mum went off pleasantly enough and I got back the dorm. Bill and Molly had already come back so at least I was not alone anymore.

I missed Sherlock acutely, though. I thought of him all the time. He kept up the texting several times a day. So I nearly always knew where he was and what he was doing and he knew all of that about me as well.

Well, at least we were connected. My friends were starting to notice my preoccupation with my phone. Molly decided that I must have a girlfriend that I didn’t want to tell them about. _True enough, come to think of it._

I got back to work and I got through the rest of the holidays. New Years Eve was a less than happy occasion. I went out with my friends...all of them had a boyfriend or a girlfriend. I did too, but a secret boyfriend is not much good on such occasions.

Term started. I would at least see him again, if only in the classroom. Second day of the term and his lecture was the last of the day. I don’t think I had ever waited to see him as much as I did that day.

He walked in and my breath hitched...it seemed that in the eight days since I had last seen him I had forgotten just how gorgeous my boyfriend was. I’d called him that to his face just once.

He had winced and said, “I hate that word, John. It is juvenile, and you are anything but.”

“So what should I call you?”

“Partner. I know it’s a bit devoid of emotion, but at least it is not silly.”

Right. So my partner stood in front of the class and looked around at all of us as he usually did before he started his lecture. If his eye lingered on me a moment longer than necessary, no one noticed.

The class went off as usual. It was difficult to look at him and keep my expression neutral, because hard as I tried, I just could not think of him as my teacher any more. So I kept my eyes on the floor, the white board, the wall behind him...

The lecture finished and he left with a final, very brief glance at me. He looked puzzled. I was gathering up my things and getting ready to leave when my phone buzzed.

**Why wouldn’t you look at me? SH**

**I could feel a fond smile creeping up on my face every time I did. It wouldn’t do to sit in class and look at you like you’re my whole world. JW**

**Am I your whole world, John? SH**

**That and then some. Why do you ask, though? Are you feeling insecure? JW**

**Yes. I’m afraid you’ll soon discover that you don’t exactly need me in your life and you will move on. SH**

**You’re an idiot. I love you anyway. JW**

**I love you too. SH**

...............................................................................

Things fell into a bit of a pattern after that. Lectures, assignments, work, life...and no Sherlock. It was hard. We saw each other every day and we had to be formal and polite and distant. We still texted and talked every day, but it was just not enough.

I could feel my frustration growing...it was hard to keep my mind on my work when all I could think about was Sherlock and how badly I wanted to be with him again. Somehow I got through the first two months. It was a struggle every day to keep away from his office.

A couple of days later, I was in class and Sherlock was teaching. I was trying not to look at him and failing miserably. I didn’t understand a thing he said that day. _I’m going to have to pay for this,_ I thought. The lecture finished and Sherlock left and as usual my phone buzzed. He’d made rather a habit of texting me right after class.

**I need to see you in my office...NOW. SH**

I told my friends that I had to go see Dr Holmes to ask about my assignment and I left. My heart was pounding as I quickly made my way to his office. I knocked quietly and went in. He was standing behind his desk.

“Lock the door.” He said.

I did and when I turned, he was standing inches away from me. We practically fell into each other’s arms and kissed with a desperation that threatened to overwhelm us. I don’t know how long we stood there tangled in each other...

We broke apart gasping and shuddering, trying to catch our breaths and calm down. We both wanted a lot more, but this was neither the time nor the place.

Sherlock drew me into his arms again. “I love you.” He said as he nuzzled into my neck.

“I love you too.”

“Do you think you could come by Baker Street today?”

I pulled back and looked at him, the surprise evident in my face.

“I know. I made the rules, remember. I can’t do this John. I can’t. It has been more than two months since I touched you, damn it! I need you.”

“I need you too, love. So badly that it is driving me crazy.”

“So you’ll come?”

“I have work, but I could take off for one evening. Are you sure it’s okay?”

“I find it hard to care about things like that anymore...”

"Sherlock?"

"It's just one evening. I'm sure it's alright."

"I better go now." I said and I held him to me one more time. "I'll see you at six."

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

I walked up to 221B Baker Street at six exactly, feeling rather nervous. I hadn't expected to see the place again so soon. I was still wondering if this was wise. But then, we hadn't been together for over two months...and it had been a lot harder than I'd imagined.

It was worst at night. I couldn't help but remember what sleeping all wrapped up in Sherlock had been like. My bed felt empty and I felt irritable and frustrated most of the time. Well, I was here now.

I knocked. Mrs Hudson opened the door. "There you are, dear." She said with a warm smile. "Go on up. He's waiting for you."

I ran up the stairs. It was only when I was on the top step that I heard voices...the door was open. There was someone in there with Sherlock.

That was unexpected, to say the least. Who was it? Was it okay for me to go in? I stood there a minute feeling uncertain.

"John." Sherlock called.

I walked in. Sherlock was sprawled all over the couch as usual. He looked furious. There was another man in the armchair...He was sitting up very straight, holding an umbrella.

He looked at me with a significant amount of interest when I walked in. It was a bit like the scrutiny that I had got used to from Sherlock. He seemed to be assessing me. I stood there and looked right back at him. I didn't care who he was. I wasn't about to let him see my discomfort.

"So you are John Watson." he said.

I nodded. "Mycroft Holmes." he said.

"You're Sherlock's brother."

He nodded. Sherlock turned and glared at him again. "I think it is time for you to leave Mycroft." He said.

Mycroft ignored him and turned to look at me again. "I can see what drew you to him but don't you think he's a little too young for you Sherlock?" he said, still looking at me. "And he's your student...Isn't that rather foolish?"

Sherlock looked pained at that. It made me angry. The difference in our ages and the fact that I was his student...these were the two things that made Sherlock feel most uncomfortable about our relationship. Mycroft probably knew that and he was using it against him...the bastard.

I wasn't about to let him, though. Also I was more than a little irritated by the way he spoke to Sherlock about me, almost as if I wasn't there. I went to the couch and sat down next to Sherlock. I took his hand in mine and turned to Mycroft. He raised his eyebrow just a fraction of an inch.

"I may be 'young' as you call it, but I am an adult. I know exactly what I want. And so does your brother. I think the fact that I'm his student is completely irrelevant. That is just the way we happened to meet...Besides, I don't think this is any of your business."

Mycroft looked surprised to say the very least.

"And one other thing. It is clear that you have a bit of a big brother complex. I'm not saying that is a bad thing entirely, but I think you should treat Sherlock with some respect. Looking out for him is one thing and smothering him is quite another. Surely you can see that your brother is happy. Maybe you could try being happy for him."

Mycroft looked like he had no idea what to say. Sherlock looked surprised, but he had a small smile on his face. Mycroft looked at the two of us for one long moment and then he got up. "My apologies." he said and he walked to the door...and left without a word.

I turned and looked at Sherlock for a minute. I raised his hand to my lips and kissed it gently. Then I got up and closed the door and locked it for good measure. Sherlock still hadn't moved.

I went back to the couch and drew him into a kiss. It took me a couple of moments to realise that his heart wasn't in it. He was troubled...So I drew back and looked at him. He looked upset, almost.

"What is it, love?"

He took my hand in his and rested it on his heart. "John, I don't want you to think that I only asked you here for sex...I really wanted to spend some time with you...just have you close." he said.

"Sherlock!  Why would I think that? This is about so much more than sex. I know how badly you've missed me...Wait. This is because of what Mycroft said, isn't it? I am nine years younger than you are, so your only interest in me has to be the sex...”

“Do you think I don't know how you feel about me? You wouldn't be saying this if I was older now, would you?" He didn't say anything, but I knew I was right.

"Why does it matter so much? It doesn't matter to me. Do you feel the age difference when we're together? Do I feel like a kid to you?"

"No. You are rather mature for your age." he admitted.

"Then it doesn't matter what anyone thinks. Least of all your brother."

He just looked at me for a moment and then he pulled me into a hug so I was lying half on the couch and half on top of him. It was so good to be there with his arms around me...I had missed him so very much. I could feel him relax against me and I drew him closer.

"I've missed you, John." He said. And then, "How long do we have?"

"I usually finish my shift at eleven. So that is less than five hours."

"Thank you." He said softly.

"What for?"

"For everything you said to Mycroft."

"It had to be said. Is he always like that?"

"Yes. He's seven years older than I am. There was time when I really looked up to him. He was practically my whole world."

"What happened?"

"I lost my way a bit...when I was at uni. I started doing drugs and...I got into a couple of... well, not nice relationships. He had to rescue me a few times. I appreciate everything he did, but it made him a bit overprotective...”

I didn't much like the sound of the 'not nice' relationships. I wanted to ask him, but I wasn't sure if this was the right time. So I didn't say anything.

"I will tell you everything, John. But I don't think I can, just now." He said, reading my mind as usual.

"That's okay..." I said. It seemed that there was a lot of pain in his past that I hadn't known anything about. It made me feel ill to think that he might have been in a relationship with someone who'd treated him badly. And the drugs? Had he been an addict? Clearly he had been unhappy. I felt the need to hold him tight and protect him.

"I love you so much." I said. And then I reached up to kiss him again. He responded this time and soon I was lost in the taste and the feel of this wonderful man, who it seemed, didn't know just how special he was. How was that possible?

...

It was a couple of hours later. We were sitting at the table in the kitchen talking and laughing over dinner when Sherlock’s phone rang.

“Lestrade.” He said glancing at it before he put it on speaker.

“There’s been a third murder. I think I need you now.” Lestrade said.

“You needed me a week ago, Lestrade. Your pride just wouldn’t let you admit it.”

“Yeah, well okay. I admit it now. Will you come?”

“No.” Sherlock said flatly.

“No? Why not? I’m asking you aren’t I?” Lestrade said.

“I would like to come, but I can’t. Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I have company.”

“You have company? You mean like a date?” Lestrade sounded extremely surprised.

“Yes. I have a date. Why does that surprise you so much? Is it that you think that no one in their right mind would want to go out with me?” Sherlock sounded bitter, almost.

“Of course not. I’m not Donovan, you know. It’s just that I never thought you were interested in...relationships.” The inspector finished lamely.

How long had Sherlock been alone for people to think things like that? Why had Sherlock sounded bitter? And who was Donovan? I didn’t like the sound of him one bit, whoever he was.

 I realised again how little I knew about him. But then we’d hardly had any time together. For all that we’d been in a relationship for more than two months this was just our second day as a couple.

“So who is the young man?” The inspector continued.

“No one you know.”

“Perhaps. But I’d like to know him. He must be very special if you like him.”

Sherlock looked at me and smiled that shy smile of his before he answered. “Well he is.”

“So you won’t come.”

“I can’t.”

“Pity. I could’ve used your help on this one.”

I could see that Sherlock was thinking about it. “Can you hold the crime scene as it is until eleven?”

“That’s when your date leaves is it?” I could hear the smile in the DI’s voice. I found myself liking him. “Alright. I’ll be here.” He said finally.

And then, “What’s his name?”

“John.”

“John what?”

“I’m not going to tell you. “

“Sherlock, I’m the closest person you have to a friend. If you’re in a relationship if someone, I have a right to know who it is.”

“So you can check up on him as well? Mycroft has already done that and more.”

“Fine. I’m just looking out for you.”

“There’s no need. I’ll see you at eleven.” Sherlock said and hung up.

“He sounds nice.” I said.

“He is. He was the first DI to let me in on a case.”

“When was that?”

“About six years ago, I guess. I was a student then. We had a body come in from one of his cases. It was listed as an unsolved crime. I bribed the morgue attendant into letting me look at it. I had a few ideas, but I couldn’t solve it without the case file.”

“So you just went to him and asked for it?”

“Actually, yes. He told me to piss off, but I told him what I’d seen on the body and my conclusion about how the murder had been committed. He was surprised and impressed enough to ask me to sit down and hand me the file.”

“And you solved it of course.”

“In less than ten minutes.”

“So that’s how you became a consultant.”

“Basically.”

“Why do you teach then?”

“Because until recently I did all this for free. Lestrade has been fighting to get me put on the payroll for a couple of years now. Particularly since the other DI’s started calling me in as well.”

“He seems to like you rather a lot.”

“He’s a good man. He’s seen me at my worst. I was an addict when I met him. If he hadn’t let me help him I might still be one today.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

It was about 11:30 when I got back to the dorm after what had probably been the happiest evening of my life.  _Just another four months_ , I told myself. I walked into my room to find Mike and Bill waiting for me. They looked...well, suspicious.

"Hi." I said as I walked in and took off my jacket.

"How was your evening?" Bill said, rather too casually, I thought.

"Fine...I was working." I said.

"No you weren't." Mike said with a smile.

_Oh dear! Had they gone to the pub as they did sometimes?_

"We were there mate." Bill said. "Michael told us you'd taken the evening off."

_Bloody hell! Why did they have to do this today of all days? Just like my luck. What do I do now? But wait. They don't actually know anything. I just have to play it cool._

"So where were you mate?"

I had no idea what to say. It was clear that they were going to keep digging. It would be best to come up with a plausible lie. Then Mike came to my rescue, bless him.

"Maybe Molly was right. Maybe you do have girlfriend that you're hiding from all of us."

_Right. That's it. I need a fictitious girlfriend._

...

It was the afternoon of the next day.

**My friends know about us...you're Mary now and you're 22 years old. JW**

**Why Mary? Couldn't you come up with a name with a little more personality? SH**

**A name would hardly be enough. I needed some history to go with it. I couldn't make up everything in the time I had. JW**

**So this Mary is a real person. SH**

**Yes. Neighbour's daughter. Mum was telling me about her the other day. JW**

**A childhood friend? How romantic. SH**

**That's what Molly thought. She's so happy for me...JW**

**Should I be worried? SH**

**Ha! The last time I saw her, Mary was 17 yrs old, had mousy hair, thick glasses and nothing to say for herself. JW**

**So you didn't like her. SH**

**No. My preference runs into dark curly hair, pale skin, fine cheek bones, grey-blue eyes, a baritone voice and a brilliant mind. JW**

**John, you didn't say anything about my body. SH**

**You have a beautiful body, love. I'm trying not to think about it just now. JW**

**Why? SH**

**Because I tend to get aroused when I do. Which, right now, would be a bit of a problem. JW**

**Why? Where are you? SH**

**In the cafeteria with my friends. JW**

I put my phone in my pocket and attempted to take an interest in the conversation going on around me. Molly was talking about her plans for the future. She had finally decided to take up pathology as her specialty. Mike figured that he would prefer general medicine.

"I don't think I have the stomach to be a surgeon, mate." He said.

Now Mike and Molly were among the lucky few who had parents who were both willing and able to pay for their education. So they could casually discuss their plans for post-graduate study. Bill and I were less fortunate. This was one of the biggest reasons we'd both considered enlisting.

If we joined the army, our financial troubles would be over and we would get all the education and training that we wanted. Bill was talking about 'our' plans to enlist...I hadn't told him that I'd changed my mind...I didn't know when I was going to tell him and what reason I would offer. This was one of the many things in my life that I was trying not to think about just then.

Molly said she wanted more coffee and she went up to the counter just as Sherlock walked in. What was he doing here? He looked at me briefly before going to get himself a cup of tea. Molly was standing right next to him. He greeted her with a brief smile and looked away...She stood there looking at him with a wistful expression on her face.

Then she tried to get him to talk. He spoke to her politely enough while he waited for his tea. He kept glancing at me...but the glances were fleeting. Nothing that anybody else would notice. I knew that Molly had a crush on Sherlock and I was usually quite tolerant of the way she looked at him and spoke of him.

But it got to me that day. I was jealous. I was away in the corner, able to do nothing other than stare at my partner, while Molly was over there, standing within touching distance of him and flirting with him...Why had Sherlock come here?

Finally, he took his tea and left...with a last glance at me. Molly came back to the table and proceeded to gush about Dr Holmes...how good looking he was, how nice he'd just been to her and...I tried to listen politely, but I was angry. I knew I was being unreasonable, but it seems that I have a jealous streak that is well beyond reason.

I couldn't sit there anymore. So I excused myself and I made my way to Sherlock's office, almost without thinking. I knocked and I went in. Dr. Stevens was in there with him. I hadn't expected that. I stood there feeling a bit lost for words. It’s a good thing that Sherlock is an excellent actor.

"Ah Watson. You're here about your project, I presume." he said.

"Yes sir."

"I'm sorry, but something has come up. Maybe you could come by in an hour?"

"Yes sir. Of course. Thank you." I said and left.

I was feeling rather agitated so I went for a walk. About ten minutes later, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

**What happened? You looked upset. SH**

**Nothing. I was just being silly. JW**

**You are never silly. Tell me. SH**

**I was just irritated by the way Molly was throwing herself at you. JW**

**You were jealous...of Molly...really John. SH**

**You were jealous of Mary. JW**

**Touché. SH**

**Where are you now? SH**

**Taking a walk. JW**

**Trying to work off your agitation, is it? SH**

**Is Dr Stevens still with you? JW**

**Yes. SH**

**So how are you texting? JW**

**I'm texting under the table while looking at him and nodding and pretending to be interested. SH**

**I love you. I'm sorry I was so stupid. JW**

**You were not stupid. You were jealous and I quite like that I can make you feel like that. SH**

**You would. You're a prat. JW**

**And yet you love me...I'm sorry I put you in that situation. I just wanted to see you. SH**

**It's okay. The next four months are really going to drag, aren't they?**

**I'm afraid so. SH**

...

Another couple of months went by...we didn't see each other the whole time, except in class. I could feel my frustration building. I needed to be with him again, to touch him, to feel him around me, to reassure myself that he was mine...But none of that was possible just yet, so I put all my energy and my frustration into my work.

We’d got into this habit of talking every night just after I finished at the pub. The only times he wouldn’t call were when he was out on a case. So when he didn’t call that night, I assumed he was busy. I was surprised that he hadn’t texted, but I didn’t think too much about it.

I was starting to get a bit concerned when he hadn’t texted in the morning either.

**Sherlock are you alright? JW**

No reply. That was strange. We had his lecture first thing that day. So I went to class and then Dr Stevens walked in. _What the hell?_ I was worried now _. Something was very wrong._

Dr Stevens took his place at the lectern and then he said, "I know you were expecting Dr Holmes. But he can't be here because he was in an accident last night and he was rather seriously injured. So I will be taking over his subject for the rest of the term."

His words were like a physical blow. I had this pain in my chest...I could hardly breathe. Sherlock was seriously injured? He must have been on a case. Had he been shot? How was he? I was sick with worry. And I had to sit there and act normal.

I wanted to run out of there and go to him...but I couldn’t. _Why hadn’t anyone told me? But then why would anyone tell me? I‘m just his student._ I’d never hated our situation as much as I did at that moment...

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

That lecture seemed to go on forever. I sat there with my heart in my mouth, barely able to see, unable to think. I had no idea what I was going to do. But I knew I couldn't stay there. Finally it was over and Dr Stevens left.

I told Molly that I was unwell and that I was going to go back to the dorm. The others were too busy to notice. I left the building and I started walking. I tried Sherlock's number again and again.

Nobody knew about us. But Mycroft did. Why hadn't he called me? Maybe I could ask Mrs Hudson, she might know. But I didn't have her number...Maybe I could go to Baker Street. I was so lost in thinking and worrying that I didn't notice the black car until it pulled up next to me.

Then my phone rang. It was a blocked number. "Hello." I said.

"John?"

"Mycroft! What happened? How is he?"

"He was shot in the head, John."

My heart sank. It was everything I had been afraid of and more. "How bad is it?" I could only whisper.

Mycroft didn't answer. Then, "Get in the car, John. My assistant will bring you to the hospital. You will know everything soon." And he hung up.

I noticed only then that the door of the car had opened and a woman stood there typing away furiously on her blackberry. She glanced at me briefly and said, "I'm to take you to London Bridge Hospital."

Then she got back in the car, clearly expecting me to follow. I got into the car and it sped off. He was shot in the head...that's all Mycroft had told me. Bullet wounds are always dangerous. But in the head...Ninety percent of gunshot wounds to the head are fatal...that statistic popped unbidden into my head. _That is not going to happen. I am not going to think like that._ I told myself firmly _._

But my brain kept buzzing with questions. What if the bullet had injured some critical area of his brain? It would most likely have lodged itself in the frontal lobe...that could have a lot of secondary effects like memory loss, attention deficit, difficulties with problem solving...the thought of Sherlock, of his mind, unique and brilliant as it was, the thought of his mind being damaged weighed heavily on my heart.

They would have performed the surgery last night. It would have been over by now. So why had Mycroft been so uncommunicative? Was he just being a git or was it some really bad news? I almost regretted the fact that I was a medical student as I sat there in that car seeing one disastrous possibility after another in my head...

Finally we got there and Mycroft's assistant got out of the car and walked into the hospital without a word. She didn't stop at the reception or ask anyone for information. She didn't even look up from her phone. We got into the lift and got off on the third floor. She led me down a quiet corridor and stopped in front of a closed door.

"You can go in." She said. I walked in with my heart thudding in my chest. And despite all the thinking and worrying I had done so far, I was not prepared for what I saw. Sherlock was lying in bed, clearly unconscious, his face as white as a sheet. There was a heavy bandage around his head.

"When did they operate? Why is he still unconscious?" I said as I walked up to him almost in a daze. I realised vaguely that there was another man in the room along with Mycroft but I couldn't take my eyes off Sherlock, couldn't look anywhere else.

I stopped next to the bed and took his hand in mine. It was warm and his pulse was good and strong...that reassured me a little, but only just. Neither of the two men seemed ready to say anything. And I had to know. So I walked over to the end of the bed and picked up the chart.

A nurse walked in just then. I didn't bother to look up, but I knew she was frowning. "Sir, I told you, family only." She said to Mycroft. She also seemed rather irritated that I was reading the chart. I looked up at Mycroft and frowned.

"He is family." He said firmly. "He’s my brother's partner and he's a doctor so I would appreciate it if you would leave him alone." The nurse gave me a sympathetic look and went to change the IV drip.

The chart confirmed the worst of my fears. Sherlock was in a coma. He'd been unconscious when they'd brought him to the hospital. They'd operated almost immediately and removed the bullet.

I put the chart back went back to stand next to Sherlock...I took his hand in mine and just stood there looking at him. I felt numb and slowly the tears began to fall. I felt someone bring a chair for me. It was the other man. He put his hands on my shoulders and made me sit down.

I could hear him talking to Mycroft softly, but nothing registered. I sat there looking at Sherlock...willing him to wake up..It was less than a day since he had slipped into a coma. So there was hope. He was out of immediate danger...but the bullet had gone through his brain...I couldn’t shake my fears of brain damage.

 ......................................................................

I don’t know how long I sat there looking at him... A cold, empty dread had filled my heart from the moment I heard about Sherlock that morning. I sat there unable to see anything other than his face and unable to feel anything other than his pulse as I continued to hold his hand.

The nurses came and went, Mycroft made a few calls, he went out and came back. The doctor came in a couple of times, but no one said anything to me. I was really grateful for that.

It must have been about six in the evening. I felt someone put a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see the other man who had been here with Mycroft in the morning. He’d left after some time.

“John, I’m Greg.”  “Lestrade.” He added after a pause.

He pulled up a chair and sat down. He offered me a cup of tea. I shook my head. He pushed the cup into my hand and insisted that I drink it.

“Do you want to know what happened?” He said softly.

“Yes.”

“We’ve been chasing a serial killer for a couple of weeks now. It was only yesterday evening that Sherlock figured out where his hideout was. He texted me the address. But only after he got there himself....He’s always doing things like that. He never waits for back up.” Lestrade sounded a little bitter. I could tell that he blamed himself to some extent.

“It seems he confronted the killer. He thought he was safe because he had his gun and...”

“Sherlock has a gun?”

“Yeah, didn’t you know? He’s a decent shot. But this guy had an accomplice who showed up just before we got there. I actually heard the shot as I was getting out of the car...I rushed in to find Sherlock on the floor, unconscious and bleeding.”

“Did you catch the killer?”

Lestrade looked surprised at that. That should have been the last thing on my mind, I guess. But I knew how important it was to Sherlock. Solving the crime was his greatest joy, but I knew how much satisfaction he got from knowing that he’d put another murderer behind bars. That was why he took such risks in the first place.

“I don’t think I can stomach the idea that Sherlock went through all this in vain.”  I said by way of explanation.

“We caught him and the accomplice as well.” Lestrade was looking at me with open curiosity now. “I can see why he likes you.” He said.

That was the last thing that I’d expected to hear at that moment. “You understand what he does and why he does it...you understand the reason for the risk. That’s rare you know. To have your partner really understand you.”

“I’ve been married ten years. My wife knew I was a cop when she married me. She knew what kind of life I had. And yet she accuses me of putting my life needlessly at risk, she thinks I don’t care about her because I’m not home enough...”

We sat there in silence for some time and then my phone rang. It was Michael form the pub. It was time for my shift. What was I going to say? I couldn’t tell him the truth. So I told him that there was an emergency in the family and that I would have to take a few days off. He didn’t sound too happy at the mention of a few days. But he was basically a nice guy so he told me to take care and hung up.

“Why did you lie to him?”

“Did Sherlock tell you anything about me?”

“No.”

“I’m his student.”

“Oh...I thought you looked a bit...young.”

“I’m in my final year of med school. I graduate in a couple of months.”

“How long...?”

“Since Christmas.”

“So you’ve been keeping it quiet...waiting until you graduate.”

I nodded. “You and Mycroft are the only ones who know. Apart from Mrs Hudson, of course.”

My phone rang again. It was Molly. I quickly silenced it...Then it was Bill and five minutes later, it was Mike.  What was I going to tell them? That was the last thing I wanted to think about at that moment.

Here I was worried sick about Sherlock, tying not to think of all the things that could go wrong, trying not to cry and...I felt like my life was closing in around me. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep our relationship a secret. A big part of me simply didn’t want to lie anymore...

I couldn’t help thinking that this was so unfair. Other couples didn’t have to think about stuff like this. My heart was practically breaking and I was having to worry about what I was going to tell everyone.

“Friends?” Lestrade said.

“Yes.”

“They don’t know.” He said.

I shook my head. Molly called again. I cut the call again. It was getting ridiculous.

“You should talk to them mate. It’s obvious they’re worried about you. They’ll soon call the cops if you don’t.”

“What can I tell them?”

“The truth.”

“I can’t. They won’t understand.”

“Are they good friends? Good people?”

“Yes.”

“Then they’ll understand.”

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Molly called again...I stared at the phone in desperation. "Take the call." Greg said.

"I can't. What will I tell them?"

"Tell them the truth. Trust me, they'll understand."

"I can't do this on the phone. They're my best friends. I've been lying to them for six months...I can't just pick up a phone and tell them that."

He thought about it for a minute. "Maybe you're right...Call one of them, tell them you're fine and that you're going to be back at the dorm within the next hour."

"You're telling me to go."

"Just for a couple of hours. Look, this might not seem very important right now, but you don't know how long it will take for Sherlock to wake up and to recover. You'll need your friends to cover for you, mate and you can't expect them to do that if don't tell them the truth."

"I don't want to go."

"I understand, but it's only for a couple of hours. Go fix this and it'll be a load off your mind."

"I just don't want them to think of this as some tawdry little affair..."

"No one who hears you speak of Sherlock can think that. I hardly know you and I can see how much you love him. They're your friends...trust them."

"Okay." I said, having finally made up my mind. I stood up and kissed Sherlock gently on the forehead. "I love you." I whispered.

"Thanks Greg."

"No problem. Don't worry about him. I'm here, Mycroft is here...he'll be fine. And I don't just mean right now. He will be fine. He'll get well soon, trust me."

I nodded and left. I found the black car waiting outside for me. I was surprised. I hadn't said anything to Mycroft. He hadn't even been in the room when Greg and I were talking. Is this what Sherlock meant when he said that Mycroft knew everything?

I got into the car feeling grateful. I didn't think I could handle the tube just then. I called Molly. She sounded frantic. I told her that everything was fine and that I was coming back to the dorm.

...

I walked into my room and I saw all three of them waiting for me. Their questions burst forth immediately. I stood there not knowing what to say. The only thing I could feel was the cold dread that had taken over my heart that morning. It must have shown on my face.

My friends quietened down rather quickly and just looked at me. I sat down and tried to compose myself, but it was difficult and the tears that I had been fighting all day started to spill. Molly put her arms around me and held me while I cried.

Bill and Mike sat there looking worried and confused. I couldn't blame them. I had been fine until that morning...I calmed down and started to talk. I told them everything...they were stunned. Whatever they had expected, it certainly was not this.

Molly looked stricken. I had been most concerned about her reaction. "I'm sorry." I said. She shook her head and said, "It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry about. It was a silly crush. He always made it clear that he wasn’t interested.”

“If anything, I'm...upset with myself. It makes me cringe to think of the number of times I talked to you about him. I don't know how you sat there and listened, John. It would've made me crazy if I was in your place..."

"I'm sorry I lied to you guys."

"It's okay, mate. I might have done the same thing in your place." Mike said.

"So you don't...you're not..." I couldn't find the words.

"Did you honestly think that we would be angry with you?" Bill said.

"I've been lying to you for six months..."

"I wish you had trusted us...we might have been able to help you. But that's okay. That's all we want to do now, mate. We want to help in any way we can." Mike and Molly nodded in agreement.

"I can't imagine what you're going through right now." Molly said. "So stop worrying about us and our feelings. We're fine. Just tell us what we can do to help."

"You really understand?”

“What’s not to understand? We didn’t know you liked guys, we never imagined that you and Dr Holmes...Still can’t imagine actually...” Bill said. “But it’s obvious you love him so I don’t see how it matters that he’s our teacher. Now what do you need?”

“I need to get back to the hospital.”

“I’ll pack some of your clothes.” Mike said.

“When was the last time you ate?” Molly said.

“I don’t know.”

 “I’ll get you something.” She said and left.

“Should I tell Dr Stevens that you need a week off?” Bill said.

“Yeah...he’ll want to know why.”

“Does he know your dad is dead?”

“What uh...no, I think. Why?”

“Good. I’ll tell him your dad had a stroke and that he’s serious.”

“What else? Anatomy project. It’s due in two days. Have you finished it?” Bill said.

“Mostly...I still have to organise it and I haven’t written the conclusion yet.”

“Is it on your laptop?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. I’ll get it done and turn it in.”

Molly came back with a sandwich and a cup of tea. “Eat.” She said as she handed it to me.

“I can’t.”

“John, he’s going to be fine. You have to believe that. Worrying yourself sick is not going to help him. You need to keep up your strength. Now eat.”

She sat there watching me until I finished. Mike was done packing my things. I looked around at my friends and I found it hard to believe how easy they’d made it for me. Why had I worried about it so much?

“Guys, I...thanks.”

“It’s alright. Now go. Just keep in touch okay.” Mike said.

“I will.”

“And you’ll let us know when...” Molly said.

“Yes...yes I will. Guys, thanks again.”

“Not a big deal. I told you. Just take care of yourself. “

Molly pulled me into a hug. “He’s going to be fine.” She said.

I nodded and left. The black car was waiting for me. I got in and sat back feeling relieved. Greg had been right. It was a big load off my mind.

...

It was a couple of hours later. I was sitting by Sherlock’s bed holding his hand. There had been no change at all. But now I felt lighter, more positive somehow. Sherlock was going to be alright. I can’t tell you why I suddenly felt like that, but I did. I was sure that he would wake up soon.

Greg had gone home. Mycroft was around somewhere. It was past eleven and the hospital was very quiet and I found myself talking to Sherlock...something told me that he could hear everything I said.

“I told my friends about us. It was such a relief to finally tell the truth. I’ve hated having to hide our relationship...not just because I was lying and pretending all the time...I guess I just want to be able to show what I feel for you without worrying that someone might be watching...”

“Greg told me what happened. Why did you have to do such a damn fool thing anyway? He said you’ve always been reckless with your life. Almost like you didn’t care what happened to you. Why Sherlock?”

“He’s never thought of himself or his life as anything valuable.” Mycroft said. He was standing at the door.

“Why?’

“Too intelligent, easily bored.”

“So he risks his life so he won’t be bored.”

“You could say that. It’s always a game with him...catching the killer. It is all that matters. Give him a case and he’s happy...his mind is busy. But once he’s solved it, he’s bored.”

Mycroft came and sat down next to me. “My brother has a bit of an addictive personality, John. First it was cigarettes, then it was drugs and now it is crime solving. Despite the fact that it is his latest addiction that has landed him in this position, I would say that it is less harmful than the other two.”

“Is that why he doesn’t eat or sleep properly?”

“Yes. In his own words, his mind is the only thing that matters. The rest is just transport.”

“Is that why you watch over him? Because he doesn’t take care of himself?”

“I try to make sure he doesn’t do anything particularly foolish...like going back to the drugs. But for all that, I cannot make him take care of himself.”

We sat in silence for a while. “I guess there is no point in telling you to go home and get some rest.” Mycroft said.

“None.”

“Well in that case, I’ll see you in the morning.” He said and left.

I watched him leave and I found myself thinking that maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. I got up and turned down the lights. I took Sherlock’s hand in mine and sat down again, looking at him, searching for some sign of consciousness.

Three days went by like that...waiting and watching. I had almost not left his side. Greg and Mycroft came and went. They would sit down to talk to me sometimes, but mostly I was left alone. 

And then on the morning of the fourth day, I woke up to the sound of my name. Someone was calling me, trying to wake me up. It must be Greg, I thought and then I felt a tug on my arm. My eyes flew open and I saw Sherlock looking at me...”John.” He said again, looking for all the world like he’d just woken up from a good night’s sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

 

Sherlock had been in a coma for over three days. I had spent most of that time sitting by his bed, holding his hand and trying not to think horrible thoughts. Somewhere around the end of the first day, I had managed to convince myself that he would wake up...and soon. But try as I might, I couldn't stop worrying about possible damage to his brain.

So when he did wake up, my joy was laced with worry. I couldn't be truly happy until I was sure that his brain was relatively undamaged...and that was something that would take at least a few days to determine.

The first day was really hard on Sherlock. He woke up to find that he couldn't see properly or understand anything that we were saying to him. This is a fairly common experience for people waking from a coma, so I wasn't unduly worried about that. But it made him feel panicky and out of control.

He had known that it was me sitting in that chair and holding his hand, though he could not see me as anything other than a vague shape. That, I thought, boded well for his brain. The doctor said that he was reasonably sure that Sherlock would make a complete recovery...he had only been in a coma for a little over three days and his EEG was near normal.

It was a whole day before Sherlock could see things clearly again and two days before he could understand what we were saying to him. He spent those first two days looking so bewildered and frustrated at his inability to understand anyone that it really wrenched at my heart.

Sherlock sees everything and knows everything. He's always so sure of himself...It was awful to see him looking so lost. I spent every moment of that time with him. He seemed able to relax as long as I was there to hold him. He shied away from the doctors and the nurses, refusing to let them touch him even.

So I took over as much of his care as I could. He was less irritable by the third day when he could understand what we were saying. But even then, I had to take care to speak slowly and clearly. Every now and then he would lose the thread of the conversation and his mind would just wander off.

He had difficulty doing simple things like brushing his teeth, going to the bathroom, wearing his clothes...this frustrated him no end. And he would not let anyone help him... "This is so humiliating..." He said every time I tried to help. But he slowly grew comfortable with letting me do these things for him.

It was like taking care of a small child. He was petulant and fussy and loving and grateful by turns. I was more than happy to do whatever he needed...he had survived a bullet...and then a coma...his present troubles were nothing compared to that.

All the issues and the problems that he had were temporary. Everything pointed to a complete recovery. All he needed was gentle, loving care which I was glad to give. The doctor said that we could take Sherlock home in a few days...But it might be a few months before he made a complete recovery.

"He'll need to be taken care of for the first couple of months at least." The doctor said. "He'll find it difficult to do things for himself at first...he'll almost have to relearn them. He may be emotionally unstable, getting angry easily, throwing tantrums, sulking...all of these moods are really beyond his control so he will need to be cared for gently..."

I'd spent all this time focusing only on Sherlock and ignoring the demands of my life. I'd already missed a week of college. We had another three weeks of classes and then exams. I had to attend those classes and take those exams, whether I liked it or not.

Michael had called me a couple of days ago to tell me that he'd hired someone else to do my job. So now I had no job and no money. None of this troubled me as much as it should have. I was just so happy to have Sherlock back and recovering well that I pushed all this to the back of my mind...to be thought about later.

Another couple of days and Sherlock would be discharged. He would go home. And who would take care of him there? I wanted to be the one to do it obviously, but the nature of our relationship made that impossible. Mycroft was more than capable of doing everything that was required, but would Sherlock want that? Would he be happy with that?

Would I be happy with that? I had done eveything for him ever since he woke up. I'd pretty much not left his side. And he needed me. He made that clear every minute. So how were we going to deal with this? Sherlock was not in a place where he could think about any of this. He just seemed to assume that I would be with him.

...

It was the day before Sherlock was to go home. He was asleep and I was sitting on the other bed looking out of the window and thinking. It was six days since he had woken from his coma. The initial problems with his vision were entirely gone. He was able to understand everyone around him, but he still had trouble following a conversation because his mind had a tendency to wander off.

He was able to get out of bed and walk around a little bit, but he still tired very easily. Lots of rest, the doctor had said. But getting Sherlock to rest was no easy task. He kept insisting that he didn't need it and that he was bored...I was still thinking about all this when Mycroft came in and pulled up a chair.

"I've been meaning to talk to you." He said. "I have a request to make of you, actually."

"Request?"

"Yes...it is obvious that Sherlock needs you very much right now. Your presence seems to make him comfortable and happy. And we both know how important that is if he is to get well soon. So...will you consider moving in with him, John?"

"Moving in? There's nothing I would like more...all I want is to be there and take care of him but..."

"But what?"

"There's a reason we've had to keep quiet about our relationship. We'll no longer be able to hide it if I move in with him."

"Losing his job is the least of his concerns at the moment, John. I honestly don't care about that and neither would he, were he capable of thinking about it at the moment. His health is much more important. It is his brain that we're talking about here..."

"I know, but how can we make such a big decision without so much as talking to him about it?"

"If Sherlock were capable of making decisions right now, we would ask him. But as things stand...I know it looks like I'm being the contolling big brother again, but I honestly don't see a choice...And I know that I'm asking a lot of you..."

"This is Sherlock you're talking about." I said. "This is the man that I intend to marry and spend the rest of my life with...so no, you're not asking for anything really."

Mycroft looked surprised. "You've only been in a relationship for five months...you haven't really been together during that time. How can you know that your relationship will last, that you will want it to last, even?"

"I know this will sound fanciful, but there's something here, beyond attraction, beyond love, even...it is a bone deep connection...I've felt it from the start, we've both felt it. This is not a casual relationship. We're both in it forever."

Mycroft looked at me intently while he considered my words. "I may have misjudged you..." He said finally.

I had to laugh at that.

"Do I hear you eating your words, Mycroft? I don't seem 'too young' any more is it?"

"No you don't. You are a lot more sensible and responsible than I expected...you've done a very good job of handling Sherlock...But I will have you know that I'm not usually wrong..." He said with a wry smile.

I had got to know Mycroft rather well over the last few days and I found that I liked him. He was controlling and overbearing but he did know when to back off. He was as much a genious as Sherlock. He had the same wry sense of humour and underneath that power complex, he was basically a good man.

And, the thing that mattered to me the most, he loved Sherlock very, very much. He'd watched over him and taken care of him ever since he was six years old (when their father had left them). He just needed to accept that his little brother was now a grown man. I think he was starting to see that...

We sat in silence for a while and then Sherlock woke up. "John." He said, holding his hand out for me. "I'm here." I said as I went to him quickly.

"Who are you talking to?" he said.

"Mycroft."

"What is he doing here? Doesn't he have a country to run?"

"He can run it just as well from here..."

Sherlock turned to glare at his brother. "I know that you're glad to have him here, Sherlock. So you can stop pretending." I said.

He snorted and glared at this brother again but I was not fooled.

"It's time for your medicine. But you have to eat first."

"No."

"Yes you do."

"You're always making me eat."

"And you're always complaining about that. So we're even. Now eat." I said as I picked up a bowl of pasta and tried to feed him.

"No." He could be really stubborn when it came to food.

"Not even if I do this?" I said and then I kissed him on his cheek.

"No." He said firmly, though it was obvious that he was trying not to smile.

"Okay...what about this then?" I said and I kissed him on the other cheek.

He just shook his head this time. This had turned into a game now. "How about this?" I said softly as I kissed him gently on his lips.

"Not good enough. You have to kiss me properly." He said.

"Only if you eat." I said.

He thought about that for a moment and then, "Alright!" He said and he opened his mouth and let me feed him.

I could hear Mycroft chuckling softly behind me.


	14. Chapter 14

 

Sherlock insisted on climbing the stairs himself when we got him home the next day. He was really in no shape to do it. But he was insistent..."I am not going to be carried up...I am fine!"

So I put his arm around my shoulders and helped him up. He was all done in by the time we got into the apartment. He could barely stand and he was panting and struggling to breathe. So Mycroft and I picked him up and carried him into his bedroom, while Sherlock protested loudly. I manged to quiet him and then I got him undressed and put him to bed.

I walked into the living room and found Mycroft deep in conversation, with Mrs Hudson.

"Is he asleep?" She said.

"Yes. I think he'll sleep for a couple of hours, at least."

"Then you sit down and get some rest, dear. I'll go make you some tea." She said as she walked into the kitchen.

I sat on the couch feeling exhausted. I hadn't slept much in the last few days. I looked around me, feeling rather glad, to be in Sherlock's apartment...I found it hard to believe that I was going to live there.

"You've missed eight days of classes now..." Mycroft said suddenly. "You should get back to college."

"Yes. But what about Sherlock?"

"You'll only be gone for a few hours a day. Mrs Hudson and I will manage."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Well...okay. May be in a couple of days, once he's settled in a little." I said.

"I wanted to give you this." He said and handed me a wallet.

"This is Sherlock's wallet. Why are you giving it to me?"

"You'll be living with my brother, John. That means you will be buying groceries and medicines and paying the bills...you don't think I expect you to use your own money for any of that, do you? Besides I am aware that you've lost your job. Which is a good thing under the circumstances...so I'd like to help you. And I'm sure Sherlock will approve."

I opened the wallet. There was one credit card and two debit cards and a little bit of cash. "I'm going to find these bank accounts magically topped up every week, aren't I?" I said.

Mycroft had the grace to look embarrassed. "Only for a few months..." He protested.

"I am a rich man, John. And I have no one to spend my money on. Sherlock never lets me help him...he's too proud, just like me. But he is my little brother. I'd like to do something for him, particularly now. You're doing everything else."

How could I say no to that? "Fine. But I still can't believe that you're trusting me with this."

"I've trusted you with my brother's life. This is merely money..."

To say that I was surprised, would be a serious understatement. Mycroft was turning out to be a much better man than I had thought him. "I owe you an apology, Mycroft. I think I really misjudged you."

He looked surprised and pleased. He smiled a quirky little half smile that reminded me of Sherlock. The two brothers were not a bit alike to look at, but they had very similar mannerisms.

"I just hope Sherlock knows how lucky he is." I said. "I have an older sibling too, but...I've never had her worry about me or look out for me in any way. I was always the one defending her when people called her names and picking her up when she'd had too much to drink and was lying helpless in a pub somewhere..."

I was starting to get a little emotional and I was rather glad that Mrs Hudson chose that moment to walk in with the tea and biscuits.

...

I went over to the dorm that morning to pick up my things. Sherlock was asleep and both Mycroft and Mrs Hudson were there with him. The place was empty, just as I'd expected. It was mid morning and everyone was in class. I packed my stuff quickly and left. I was glad that I hadn't run into anyone. I wasn't ready to answer any awkward questions just yet.

But I wasn't naive enough to think that I'd got away with it. In a couple of days, everyone in the dorm would know that I'd moved out. There would definitely be questions once I got back to college. I'd better think of a plausible explanation, I thought. But nothing came to mind just then.

I got back to Baker Street to find that Sherlock was awake and ranting about something. I dropped my bags by the door and walked in. He was sitting on the couch with his legs drawn up. He looked absolutely fed up. Mrs Hudson was standing next to him and she looked worried. Mycroft was sitting in the armchair. He had a neutral expression on his face, but I could sense that he was stressed.

"What's the matter, love?" I said as I walked up to Sherlock.

He looked bewildered. He'd lost his temper, and now he didn't know why. This would have troubled me if the doctor hadn't told me to expect things like this.

I put my arms around him and held him for a minute. I could feel him relax against me. "It's okay, love. Whatever it was, it's over..."

I saw Mrs Hudson and Mycroft look at each other for a moment. Then they left quietly.

And we were alone. I made Sherlock lie down on the couch and then I curled up beside him. "Why is this happening? I do and say things and then forget why..." He sounded so lost. I found myself wondering again why this had to happen to him. His mind was the most precious and amazing thing about him...it was awful to see him flounder like this.

"You know why as well as I do." I said gently. "You've had a traumatic brain injury. Your brain needs time to heal and set itself right. It is...rebooting and this little bit of forgetting and struggling to do things for yourself...all these are glitches. They'll work themselves out and you'll be fine...soon, I promise."

"I feel helpless and I hate that."

"It's only for a few days...and you do have me to take care of you."

He smiled at that. "Yes I do. Thank you."

"Don't you dare...thank you? Like I would just leave you to someone else's care. Like I could. Would you have been able to do that if our positions were reversed?"

"Of course not!"

"See...no need to thank me."

He smiled that half smile of his...I always loved it when he smiled, but this particular smile had a way of getting to me.

"I cannot not kiss you when you smile like that." I said as I reached for him. We kissed softly for a while. We pulled apart and lay there looking at each other. He put his hand on my face and gently caressed my cheek.

"I love you." he said.

"I love you too."

"Are those your things?" He said pointing to my bags.

Moment of truth. What was I going to say? I've decided to move in with you and I didn't think it was necessary to ask for your opinion on the matter...Awful as it sounded, it was the truth.

I settled for "Yes."

"Good." He said and then he was quiet for a while, like he was thinking about something. I waited for something more. But nothing came. And then he started talking about something else entirely.

Was this another case of his mind wandering off or did he think that there was no need to say anything else about it?

Probably the former...I found that I was disappointed. I guess I wanted him to say that he was glad I was moving in with him...and then again, considering the way he was snuggled up to me and the way he was looking at me, there was probably no need to say it...


	15. Chapter 15

I woke up the next morning in the nicest way possible. The sun was streaming in through the windows and I was lying on my back with Sherlock curled up around me. It was only the second time that I had woken up with him like this.

I lay back and looked at him, marvelling again at the fact that we had somehow ended up together. I thought back to that day months ago, when I saw him for the first time. I'd felt a warmth in my heart and a flutter in my stomach.

I had been so sure that he could never feel that way about me...and yet, here we were. I still couldn't believe that I had actually moved in with him...

We soon settled into a routine at 221B. Mycroft would come over every morning while I was in class. Mrs Hudson cooked for us and helped me keep the place clean, insisting all the while that she was not our housekeeper. I usually got back in the afternoon and then I would have to make Sherlock eat and sleep. It was a battle every day...

He was convinced that he was just fine and that he didn't need to sleep and that all the food that I was making him eat was slowing down his brain...The real problem though, was that he was bored. He had nothing to do other than read and watch telly and make conversation...it was really messing with him.

He only cheered up when Greg came around and talked about the cases that he was working on. So I encouraged him to come over as often as possible. I had taken a real liking to the man and we were well on our way to being good friends. I could see that Sherlock was itching to be out there working with the police again, but he was just not well enough.

As for me, I had missed ten days of classes and I had a lot of catching up to do. Molly made copies of all her notes for me, which was a big help. But I had my exams coming up in a month's time and I was totally unprepared. I was seriously worried, but I didn't say anything to Sherlock about it...I figured that he had enough on his mind.

He found me one evening sitting at the kitchen table with my head in my hands, while the table was covered with my books. He pulled my hands off my face and made me look at him.

"Trouble studying?"

I nodded. "There's just so much material to go through...and I have less than a month."

"That is long enough."

"For you perhaps. But I'm not a genius."

“True. But you’re not an idiot either. In fact you are the most intelligent student that I’ve had so far. You’ll be fine. You just need a little help.” He said and he started going through my books.

I didn't realise it then, but I had given Sherlock something to do, something important for his mind to focus on. He spent a few hours teaching me that day and I noticed that he was suddenly a lot more cheerful...

...

A couple of weeks went by. Sherlock had been teaching me every day and I was finally feeling confident about my exams. All the work that we'd done together had helped Sherlock as well. He was happier and less irritable.

His mind had stopped wandering as it had tended to do for a couple of weeks after the shooting. He was able to take care of himself now and he found his strength and vitality returning. Another couple of weeks and he would be perfectly alright.

It was just after dinner that night. I was doing the dishes when he came up behind me. He put his arms around me and rested his head on my shoulder.

"John..."He said softly.

"Hmmm"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"I haven't thanked you yet for moving in with me."

"You don't have to. You needed me here..."

"I don't need you to take care of me any longer."

That sent a pang through my heart. That was true. Did that mean he wanted me to move out? It was only reasonable perhaps, but I liked living with him. I couldn't imagine not being around him all the time, not anymore. I didn't know what to say...

"I'm hoping you'll continue to stay though...I love having you here."

My heart soared as quickly as it had sunk, making me feel rather dizzy. "Really?" I said as I turned to look at him.

"Of course. I don't think I can live here without you anymore."

I did the only thing that I could. I reached up and kissed him. It was such a heady feeling to know that I could do this anytime I wanted. We’d been living together for just over three weeks and I still wasn’t used to it. We drew back and just held each other for a minute.

"I'm sorry." He said.

"What for?"

"For making you stay away from me. For asking you to hide our relationship."

"You had a good reason."

"True. But still. I might have given you the impression that my job and my reputation matter more to me than you do...that's not true you know. You are the most important thing in my life."

I found that I was feeling a little choked up. All I could do was look at him and hope that he could see how much he meant to me.

“I heard you talking to Mycroft in the hospital.” He said. “You said that I am the man you intend to marry and spend the rest of your life with...” He sounded uncertain as he said those words, like he wasn’t sure he’d actually heard them.

“I meant what I said.”

“You’re willing to commit to me for the rest of your life...after a mere six months of being in a relationship...”

“Did you hear the other thing I said to your brother? The one about the bone deep connection between us...the certainty that we belong together. Do you feel it?” I said and I was the one feeling uncertain now.

“I do...I have from the start. It’s just that...you’re too young to be thinking about a commitment. You may not want me a few years from now...”

“I’ll want you forever, love. I’m very sure of that. I’m not saying I want to marry you now. I want to start working and settle down a bit first. But I want to be with you for the rest of my life and that is never going to change.”

He just looked at me for a moment almost as if he couldn’t believe that I was real. Then he smiled...there was nothing shy about this smile...

“Do you know how wonderful you are?” He said. His voice had dropped to a low purr that I found particularly seductive.  

“No.”

“Then let me show you.” He said and he proceeded to kiss me senseless. He ran his hands all over me sending shivers down my spine. All I could do was hold on.

We hadn't made love in a really long time. Sherlock just hadn't been strong enough. He'd asked me a couple of times but I'd refused. His health was delicate and I wasn't going to jeopardise it for anything.

But I realised half way through that kiss that I couldn't wait any longer. "John..." He said and I could hear the desire in his voice. "Yes..." I gasped as I pulled him closer and kissed him harder. "Please...” He said. "I want you..."  “I want you too...” I gasped between kisses.

He dragged me into the bedroom and we fell into bed. We went at each other with all the passion and desire that had been pent up and held in check for the last few months. It was a lot more than sex that night...it was like an affirmation of our relationship. An acceptance of the fact that we were now together and we would be for a good long while. 


	16. Chapter 16

I was climbing the stairs carrying groceries when I heard the voices. It seemed like Greg had come around while I was away. Sherlock sounded excited about something. I walked in the door and realised what it was.

Greg had brought him a case to solve. The coffee table was covered with photographs. Sherlock was walking up and down the room, talking nonstop, listing his deductions. I had never seen him like this...

His eyes were lit up and he was literally bursting with energy. It was a fantastic sight...made all the more precious by his recent illness. It was a sight that I realised I wanted to see again and again.

I put the bags of groceries on the floor and leaned against the door and watched. It took me a couple of minutes to start following his train of thought. It was brilliant as usual...and I said so when he was done. He flushed with pleasure and then he smiled.

I had to kiss him and I didn't care all that much that Greg was right there. He didn't seem to mind either...he just looked as us and smiled like an indulgent older brother.

"I know how you feel, John." He said when we were done. "It’s good to see Sherlock like this again."

"So do I get to come to crime scenes now?" Sherlock said.

"Only if John says it’s okay." Greg replied.

"John..." Sherlock said and he looked at me with the question on his face.

"You're actually asking me..." I was honestly surprised.

"Of course."

“Does that mean you’ll listen to me?"

"I might rant a bit, if I don't like what you say, but I will listen to you."

That made me smile. "I think you're fine. You need to get back out there. It'll be good for you. But you have to promise me something."

"What?" He sounded a bit wary. Perhaps he knew what I was going to say.

"You are going to stop taking unnecessary risks. You are not going to do the kind of damn fool thing that you did the last time you were on a case."

"It was not a damn fool thing! I was chasing a serial killer. I didn't want him to get away."

"Yes. But you walked in there without back up. That was foolish."

"I had my gun."

"But you didn't have anyone to watch your back. And you got shot. It damn near killed me to see you in the hospital like that..."

That made him think a little. "I'm sorry I put you through that, but..."

"But what?"

"I'll be careful...But I can't promise more than that."

I sighed. "That will have to do I guess..."

...

It was later that evening. I was at the kitchen table, poring over my books as usual and Sherlock was doing something on his laptop.

"John...I've been thinking." He said.

I knew from the tone of his voice that it was something important.

"What about?" I said.

"I don't think I want to teach anymore."

"What? Why? You're a brilliant teacher."

"I know, but...I've been thinking that I'd like to be a detective instead...do it properly, instead of treating it like a hobby."

"Oh!...Well, you're brilliant at that too. What about the money though?"

"Greg had me put on the payroll as a consultant, so I get paid for every case I help them with. And I could take on some private clients as well."

"It sounds good. But are you sure about this?"

"Yes."

"Then you should do it."

“Really?”

“Really, love. Anything that makes you happy.”

“Even if it means a dangerous life choice?”

“I don’t think I could keep you and danger apart if I tried. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t love the danger and the adrenaline rush...and I have no desire to change you, even if it means keeping you safe...”

“Lestrade was right...” he said softly.

“What about?”

“He said that I’m very lucky to have you. I knew that already, but you prove it again and again...come here.” He said and he held out his hand.

“Why?”

“Because I have rather an intense desire to kiss you right now.”

..............................................................

A month went by...I had spent it studying and giving my exams. Sherlock had been busy as well...he’d helped the police with several cases and that had kept him out at all hours. I’d hardly spent any time with him and I was starting to miss him more than I could bear.

I came home to an empty apartment again that afternoon and I sat down on the couch with a sigh. I must have been a lot more tired than I realised...I don’t know when I fell asleep. I woke up to the sound of my name and the feel of a hand gently caressing my cheek.

I opened my eyes. Sherlock was kneeling on the floor and looking at me...I pulled him into a hug and held him for a minute. “I’ve missed you.” I said.

“I know. It’s been a crazy month.”

I sat up and yawned. “What time is it?”

“Six thirty.”

“When did you get home?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“Are you going to stay?” I asked, well aware of the pleading note in my voice.

“Yes. I’m going to do a lot more, if you will let me.” He said looking a bit mischievous.

“And what might that be?”

“I want to take you out to dinner.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Mr Holmes?” I said archly.

“Yes, Mr Watson. I would be greatly obliged if you would consent to spend an evening in my company.”

“Hmmm...I’m not entirely opposed to the idea, but I just might require a little...persuasion.”

“Persuasion? Tell me if this helps.” He said and then he leaned forward to kiss me nice and slow. It was the kind of kiss that starts with the merest brush of lips and then gets deeper and deeper until your heart is thudding in your chest and you start to see stars.

“Well? “ He said when he was done.

“That was...brilliant. But I’m afraid that going out is now entirely out of the question.”

“Is it?”

“Oh yes. It’s been a long time since I had the chance to appreciate your body the way it deserves, so I intend to indulge myself tonight...starting right now, in fact.” I said as I started to unbutton his shirt.

“Hmmm...You get the nicest ideas sometimes.” He said as he lay back on the couch and let me have my way with him.

..........................................................

It was a couple of hours later. We’d just finished dinner and we were sitting together on the couch and watching telly when we heard the front door and then heavy footsteps on the stairs.

“Lestrade.” Sherlock said.

Greg knocked briefly and then he walked in.

“Double homicide...locked doors.” He said.

There’s nothing that Sherlock likes more than a locked door murder, except a serial killer, perhaps. His eyes lit up immediately. And then he looked guilty. He’d promised me an evening at home. I was disappointed, but it was obvious that he had to go.

“Sorry love.” He said. And then he gave me quick kiss and got up.

“Where?” He said.

“Croydon. Will you come?”

“Yes. You go ahead. I’ll follow.”

Greg nodded. And then, “Sorry John.” He said as he turned to leave.

I leaned back on the couch and sighed. Sherlock went into the bedroom to get dressed...and came back out almost immediately. He looked like he’d just had a very interesting thought.

“John, would you like to come with me?”

“Oh God, yes!”

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

That case took three days to solve...three days of running around, chasing after clues. That final night had us chasing the murderer through what felt like half of London. We caught him in the end, but not without a fight.

We got home and stood in the hallway, leaned against the wall and burst out laughing. "That was the most fun I've had in...I've had ever, really." I said. "You were amazing, you know that."

"Yes." He said and he smiled. "You said that...a few times."

"I was gushing a bit, I know. Sorry."

"Don't be. I find that I rather like it. You were amazing too, by the way. That was the best rugby tackle I've seen in a while."

"Thanks. But you're such an idiot. How could you just go after him like that?"

"I didn't know he had a knife."

"Aren't you supposed to assume things like that?"

"I thought I had him...I'm glad you were there though. I would've ended up with a nasty injury otherwise."

"Told you you need someone to watch your back."

"Maybe you're right." He said and he looked thoughtful for a moment, like he was considering something. "So are you up for the job?"

"Of course...I'd best learn how to handle a gun though."

He looked surprised. "You really want to learn...you would actually be willing to shoot someone..."

"To save your life? In a heartbeat."

He continued to look surprised.

"I was going to join the army remember...guns were always going to be part of that..." I said.

"I don't know how you do it, John but you surprise me all the time...come here" He said and then he pulled me into a hug.

"I realised something today." He said.

"What?"

"I'm not the only one around here who is fond of danger."

...

It was the afternoon of the next day. Sherlock was sprawled on the couch, complaining of boredom. I was sitting in my armchair and writing on my laptop.

"What are you doing?" He said.

"Writing up the case you just solved."

"Writing it up? Who for?"

"Me, really. I thought it was very interesting."

"You're writing it up so you'll remember it..."

"Yes. I don't ever want to forget just how brilliant you were."

"You won't forget...I'll go on being brilliant."

"True. But this particular case was complicated and intriguing. So I want to have a record of it."

"Are you putting it on your blog?"

"How do you know..." I broke off at the sight of his face. It had "Oh please!" written all over it.

"Well then you also know that I've never written anything on it." I said.

"Why is that?"

"Because I never thought my life was interesting enough to write about..."

"And now suddenly it is..." He tried to keep his expression neutral as he said that, but he couldn't quite hide the tiny smile lurking at the corner of his mouth.

"Aren't you pleased about that..."

"But if you put it on your blog, people are going to read it."

"What people? I can't think of anyone other than my friends and my sister perhaps."

"If you put it out there, anyone could read it."

"True...the more the people who read it, the better. I want every one to know brilliant you are."

"Why?"

"Because...you're unique. There's no one like you. You risk your life every day to put murderers and criminals behind bars...And the cops get all the credit. It's not fair."

"You know I don't care about things like that."

"But I do..."

"Don't turn me into a hero, John."

"I don't have to, love. You're one already."

...

That blog started as no more than a record of the cases that we worked on. I'd only meant it to be a record for me. I had hoped that a few people would read it. But I never imagined that it would become as popular as it eventually did.

Sherlock has always been disdainful of my blog...he claims that I take his cases and his methods of solving them, which were rational and scientific and romanticise them. He insists that he is not a hero and that I should stop turning him into one.

I listen to him about most things, but this I will always turn a deaf ear to. Sherlock is a hero. He is the bravest and most intelligent man that I have ever known. He frequently comes off as cold and rude...but underneath all that is a big heart and a very sensitive soul.

I don't know how I ended up with him...I'm just very, very glad that I did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This story ends here. It has been a joy to write. There may be a sequel or two in the future. If I ever make an attempt at Mystrade it will be in this universe. A very big thank you to everyone who has read this story and made the time to comment on it.


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